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The Badminton Magazine of
Sports & Pastimes
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THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
OF
SPORTS AND PASTIMES
Vol. XXII.
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THE
BADMINTON MA.GaZ'Ia^£<
OF
SPORTS AND PASTIMES
EDITED BY
ALFRED E. T. WATSON
Volume XXII.
JANUARY TO JUNE 7906
LONDON
THE SPHERE AND TATLER, LTD., GREAT NEW STREET, EC.
1906
A// righis reserved
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CONTENTS OF VOI^UME XXII.
JANUARY TO JUNE 1906
s:
^
A Day in our Elk Forest . Sir Henry Scton-Karr, C.M.G. M p ^^o^'
ILLUSTRATED. ••»'.. S2
Arena Sports IN India . A. Sidney Galtrev nr
ILLUSTRATED. -^ V*
Autumn Fishing on our Lake .... . . Edward F. Stence
ILLUSTRATED. ' °7
A Week on a Sind J heel Captain IV. B. Walker
ILLUSTRATED. ^^
Betting G.H, Shitfield 442
Big-Game Shooting at Lake Barixgo . . C.V. A. Peel, F.Z.S., F.R.G.S. 406
ILLUSTRATED.
Big-Game Hunting and Shooting. See "A Day in our Elk Forest." -Big.
Game Shooting at Lake Baringo."
Bobbery Packs Captain 11. Rowan-Robinson, R.G. A. 567
Books on Sport loi, 220, 338, 455, 571, 681
Bridge "Portland" 215
Climbing. See *• Scouts and Outposts."
Country Life in Canada on /200 a Year .... •• Canadensis " 331
Cricket Problem, A Home Gordon 529
Cricket Season, The Coming Home Gordon 394
Cricket. Su " A Cricket Problem," "The Coming Cricket Season," •• Eton t;.
Winchester."
Eating One's Cake and Having it ... . George A. IVade, D.A. 559
ILLUSTRATED.
Egbrton House Stod, 1905, The Gilbert H. Parsons 196
ILLUSTRATED,
Eton v. Winchester Home Gordon 636
Falconry in the Far East F.J. Norman 538
ILLUSTRATED.
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vi THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Falling, The Art of Lilian E. Bland 447
ILLUSTRATED.
Fiction. See "The Light of a Match," " The New Laird's Baptism," "Strange
Stories of Sport": XL— " Mr. Burkington's Beagles"; XIL— "The Satyr
Man"; XIIL— "High Stakes": XIV.— "The Parsons Bargain"; XV.—
" Mr. Lyncargo's Professional " ; XVL — " The Lantern."
Fishing. See " Autumn Fishing on our Lake," " Flies — Facts and Fancies,"
"Some Fishing Notes," " Tarpon-Fishing in Florida," " Salmon-Fishing on
the Forteau, Labrador."
Flies — Facts and Fancies Clifford CordUy 554
Football. See " The Lesson from New Zealand."
Gamekeeper's Profession as a Career, The . . . F. IV. Millard 156
Golf. See " Golf in Japan."
Golf in Japan II. E. Daunt 660
ILLUSTRATED.
Holkham Partridge Week, 1905, The . . Major Arthur Acland-Hood 14
ILLUSTRATED.
Hunting. 5ff " Bobbery Packs," "The Art of Falling," "Hunting in Ireland,"
" Hunting in the Middle Ages," " Hunting in the Shires on Nothing a Year."
" Some Great Hunts."
Hu.sTiNG \s Ireland Major Arthur Hughes-Onslow 22
ILLUSTRATKD.
" Hunting in London " : A New Prize Competition .... 460, 577, 687
Hunting in the Middle Ages The Baroness S. von C. 383
ILLUSTRATED.
Hunting in the Shires on Nothing a Year Lilian E. Bland 161
ILLUSTRATED.
Lacrosse. See " Modern Lacrosse."
Lawn Tennis. See " Lawn Tennis: Its Importance and Science."
Lawn Tennis: Its Importance and Science P. A. Vailc 610
ILLUSTRATED.
Lesson from New Zealand, The Alan R. Ilaig-Brown 47
Light of a Match, The Lawrence Mott 251
Modern Lacrosse C. E. Thomas 318
ILLUSTRATED.
Mountaineering. See " Over Rock and Ice, Being an Experience on the Matter-
horn without Guides."
Motoring. See "Motoring in France," "Round the World in a Motor Car,"
" This Amazing India."
Motoring in France II. B. Money -Coults 169
ILLUSTRATED.
New Laird's Baptism, The Charles Edivardes 181
Olympian Games of 1906. The . E. Alexander Powell, F.R G.S. 666
ILLUSTRATED.
On Skates and Skating Ed^ar Wood Syers 37
ILLUSTRATED.
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THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE ^jj
On the Auerhahnbalz (Capercailzie-Stalking)
Lt -Col. Count Gleichcn, C. M.G., D.S.O., C.V 0
ILLUSTRATED. i • . . 5
Over Rock and Ice : Being an Experience on the Matterhorn without Guides.
Maurice Steinmann, S.A.C. 64 «;
ILLUSTRATED. '^'^
Polo. See " Prospects of the Polo Season."
Portraits op Turf Celebrities by Herring Lilian E. bland ^o^
ILLUSTRATED. ** ^
Prize Competition 107, 225, 343, 461, 579. 689
Prospects of the Polo Season .... . Arthur W. Coaten 482
ILLUSTRATED.
Racing and Steeplechasing. See "Betting, " " The Egerton House Stud, i905,'
"Portraits of Turf Celebrities by Herrmg," "Racing in the West Indies."
"The Racing Season."
Racing in the West Indies Captain W.]. P. Benson 548
illustrated. '*
Racing Season, The Ti,e Editor 418
ILLUSTRATED.
Round the World in a Motor Car .... Kate D'Esterre-Hughes 58
ILLUSTRATED.
Salmon- Fishing on the Forteau, Labrador Lawrence Mott 603
Scouts and Outposts Claude E. Benson 429
ILLUSTRATED.
Shooting. See "The Gamekeepers Profession as a Career" "The Holkham
Partridge Week, 1905," "On the Auerhahnbalz (Capercailzie-Stalking)."
" Wild Turkeys in South Australia," " A Week on a Sind Jheel."
Skating. See '*On Skates and Skating."
Some Fishing Notes Edmund F. T. Bennett 310
Some Great Hunts Major Arthur Hughes-Onslow 262
ILLUSTRATED.
Sport in Rome Horace IVyndham 628
ILLUSTRATED.
Sportsmen of Mark:
III.— Mr. Spencer Gollan .... Alfred E. T. Watson i
ILLUSTRATED.
IV.— Mr. Arthur Coventry .... Alfred E.T. Watson 119
ILLUSTRATED.
V. — Mr. Gwyn Saunders-Davies . . . Alfred E.T. Watson 237
ILLUSTRATED.
VI.— Captain Wentworth Hope-Johnstone Alfred E.T. Watson 355
ILLUSTRATED.
VII.— Mr. W. F. Lee, J.P. .... Alfred E.T. Watson 473
ILLUSTRATED.
VIII.— Mr. Allan G. Steel, K.C. . . Alfred E.T. Watson 591
ILLUSTRATED.
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viii THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
PAGE
Strange Stories of Sport :
XI.— Mr. BuRKiNGTON's Beagles .... Frank Savile 68
XII.— The Satyr Man //. Knight Horsfield 135
XIII.— High Stakes Alma Scriven 284
XIV.— The Parson's Bargain . . . . C. C. and E. M. Mott 370
XV.— Mr. Lyncargo's Professional Frank Savile 497
XVI.— The Lantern *- Dalesman" 622
Tarfon-Fishing ln Florida E. G. S. Churchill 510
ILLUSTRATED.
This Amazing India D. S. Skdton, R.A.M C. 273
ILLUSTRATED
Tobogganing in the Engadine Mrs. Aubrev Le Blond 146
ILLUSTRATED
Unseen Forest Rangers, The: A Tale of Burma . . . A. Egnar 189
ILLUSTRATED.
Wild Turkeys in South Australia .... Collin^-uocd Ingram 334
ILLUSTRATED.
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MOIPAA, WINNER OP THE GRAND NATIONAL, I904
(Photograph by Clartnct Hailey, Newmarket)
The Badminton Magazine
SPORTSMEN OF MARK
III.— MR. SPENCER GOLLAN
BY ALFRED E. T. WATSON
Few men who ever lived have so thoroughly deserved the title of
"all-round sportsmen " as does the subject of the present memoir.
Were it not for the fact that Mr. Spencer Gollan never greatly
distinguished himself as a cricketer it would be difficult to say in
what sport he has not made his mark, and had he taken to this
best of all games, as so many people consider it, there is good
reason to suppose that he would have scored heavily in every
sense of the term. He has won prizes at running, high jumping,
swimming, rowing, sculling, golf, lawn-tennis, boxing, skating,
with gun, rifle, and revolver, riding on the flat, over hurdles and
NO. cxxvi. VOL. xxii.— January 1906 A
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2 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
fences — indeed, whatever he has taken in hand he has done to
admiration. His forbears were amongst the earliest settlers in New
Zealand, where, near Napier, Hawke's Bay, Spencer was born in
i860. In the Colonies everyone rides as a matter of course. The
boy had to go to school on his pony, and so acquired the rudiments
of horsemanship soon after he had learned to walk — at which age
also he learned to swim. His father raced a little, with horses
of his own breeding, and was an excellent shot ; a fact which
roused the emulation of the boy, who, when some eight years of
age, was quite an accomplished marksman. He had acquired,
indeed, no small reputation in this line, and a visitor one day pro-
HAWKE S BAY, NEW ZEALAND
{Photograph by Valentine and Sons, Dundee)
ducing a five-shilling-piece, told the lad that he might have it if he
could hit it in three shots at 50 yards. The youthful Spencer says
that at the time he fancied a five-shilling-piece was ** most of the
money there was in the w^orld," and, nerving himself for the effort,
he hit the small target twice. The visitor, who was of Scotch extrac-
tion, somewhat reluctantly yielded up the reward; but Spencer's
father, hearing the story, made the boy surrender his well-earned
prize, which Spencer believes to have been the nearest his father
ever went to injustice. Mr. GoUan, senior, had imported an Arab,
and one of this animal's sons, Chummy by name, was the first horse
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MR. SPBNCBR GOLLAN
A 2
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4 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Spencer ever owned ; and he declares he loved the little creature more
than most bipeds he has met since. Fortunately a photograph of
Chummy is preserved and here given. The horse was full of intelli-
gence, and when put in training soon learnt all that was to be
known about racing. If a handkerchief were held up to do duty
in elementary fashion for a starter's flag Chummy would watch
it intently, and was off like a rocket the instant it began to fall.
Mr. Gollan has owned innumerable horses since, but his first
favourite has never lost his place in his friend's affections.
The races on Chummy were unimportant amateur perform-
ances, and the first real race Mr. Spencer Gollan rode was on
Liberty, a mile and a quarter on the flat, at Waipukuran. The
horse, it should be explained, was the property of and nominated by
a young lady. Just outside the distance Liberty seemed to be
holding his own, so much so that the most dangerous of his rivals,
an accomplished horseman, and who oddly enough chanced to be
riding Denbigh, the dam of Moifaa, called out to ask Spencer how
he was going; and, as a matter of fact, he was doing so well that,
notwithstanding his rival's skill and experience, Spencer got the
lady's representative home by a very short head, much to the
annoyance of the beaten jockey. ** I suppose you'll get it," he said,
rather discontentedly, **for I see that not only is her father in the
box, but as far as I can make out most of the family as well ! "
Spencer, however, got the race not by reason of family influence,
but because he passed the post first, and on Liberty he won his
next two races.
One would have supposed that anything in the nature of nerves
would be the last thing of which Mr. Spencer Gollan would be con-
scious ; but he admits that he used to be nervous sometimes when
going to the post to ride on the flat. Somehow or other, however,
jumping fences seemed to give him confidence, and he declares that
of all sporting sensations which he has enjoyed there is nothing
which approaches riding a grand 'chaser over a big country. His
first mount in a jump race was on what he describes as ** a crazy
old horse " called Dhudeen, and in this event he ** finished within
*Coo-ee!'" If the expression does not interpret itself, it may be
explained that the distance just described is that at which the
familiar Colonial cry can bs heard ; but Dhudeen and his rider
would doubtless have been nearer had they not fallen in landing
over the water — the horse, however, not being allowed to escape.
**In the Colonies," Mr. Gollan says, ** trainers won't have their
horses loose ; a jockey there has to stick to the reins," which is all
very well as far as it goes ; but there are times when, with the best
of all possible intentions, jockeys cannot stick to their reins, how-
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MR. SPENCER GOLLAN 5
ever much, theoretically, they may "have to." Most people when
they come off a horse, by the way, make their descent over his left
shoulder ; on the course at Christchurch, Riccarton, however,
when jockeys come down it is always over the horse's right shoulder
at one of the fences — doubtless this arises from the angle at which
the obstacle is placed.
When Mr. Spencer Gollan first set up a large stable he won a
number of races, but after a time things went consistently wrong
CHUMMY, THB FIRST HORSB BRED BY MR. SPENCER GOLLAN
with him, SO much so indeed that "Gollan's luck" became a by-word.
His best horses all met with an extraordinary variety of accidents.
In the Colonies, as in England, trials do not always come out right;
as a rule, of course, the promising animal fails, but on rare occasions
the reverse happens. Mr. Gollan once had a two-year-old named
Freda, of whom he thought so little that when she came out to run at
Flemington against a good field he did not trouble to watch the race,
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6 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
and strolled off to the luncheon-room as the horses were going to the
post. As he was about to begin his meal a lady appeared at the door,
and hastily inquired ** Is Mr. Gollan here? — because his horse is win-
ning." The owner ran out in time to see the finish, and was equally
gratified and surprised when Freda won with considerable ease.
The race did her good ; she came on, and next year was going in
such form that he began to entertain a happy conviction that not
only the Oaks but the Derby also were practically in his pocket.
Just before the first event, however, a cat, which had found its way
into Freda's box, suddenly jumped down in front of her. She started
in affright, and slipping up fractured her pelvis; ** Gollan's luck''
thus being again conspicuous.
His most famous horse was Tirailleur, a son of Musket and
Florence Macarthy, who was not only the best animal that ever
carried the black, white sleeves, red cap, but over a distance of
ground perhaps the very best horse ever known in Australia. Mr.
Gollan believes, at any rate, that Tirailleur would have beaten
Carbine over three. miles. As a three-year-old he started ten times
and won all ten races, including the Classics — " Gollan's luck "
completely swinging round, for the time, though it turned again the
very next year, for Tirailleur, when running in the Melbourne Cup,
which it was thought he could not possibly lose, had the misfortune
to be knocked over, broke his shoulder, and had to be killed. Lord
Hopetoun, then Governor, with characteristic kindness at once
sought out Mr. Gollan to condole with him before congratulating
the winner — a little fact which goes far to explain how it is that a
constant inquiry in the Colonies still is, " When are we going to
have another Hopetoun ? "
Mr. Spencer Gollan's favourite jockey was W. Clifford, whom he
declares to be the best he ever saw. He began by worshipping
George Fordham, but, while retaining the fullest admiration for
that wonderful horseman, came to the conclusion that if there were
anything to choose between George Fordham and Clifford the choice
was in favour of the Colonial, who was equally good on the flat and
over jumps. On the same day Clifford won a flat race, carrying
7 St. 5 lb., and a steeplechase with 12 st. 81b. up; but neither he nor
anyone else could make Tirailleur do anything at home. One day
a friend asked if he might have a gallop with the son of Musket
and Florence Macarthy, and was immensely delighted to see his
horse win. Mr. Gollan did not share his enthusiasm, and warned
him that it meant nothing ; but the proud owner declared that he
had watched the gallop with the utmost care, was perfectly satisfied
that it must be right, and intended to back his horse accordingly,
notwithstanding all cautions to the contrary. He lost his money
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MR. SPENCER GOLLAN 7
and it became evident that Mr. Gollan was right in asserting that
Tirailleur had not run up to within many pounds of his form.
Clifford had every requisite a jockey can possess, including
honesty and silence, and he had a quaint way with him which often
left one puzzled as to whether he was serious or joking. The first
steeplechase he ever rode was on a horse called Katerfelto. When
it was time to saddle the owner sought him out to tell him to get
ready, Clifford pretending that he had no recollection of having
promised to ride, and declaring that he could not think of doing
such a thing. The owner presently lost his temper and said he
should have to take the recalcitrant rider before the stewards; to
which Clifford replied that he could not stand being had up, and he
would go to the post,
but he did not like
jumping fences —
hated the idea of it,
in fact, and felt cer-
tain that the horse
would know it and
run out with him.
The result was that
he won easily, and
Mr. Gollan declares
that he has never
seen a rider with
such a thoroughly
unshakable seat. A
horse he was riding ^^- spencer gollan as a golfer
one day came charg-
ing down at a fence as if he were going to fly it with any amount
to spare, but in the last stride stopped dead and swung round.
Clifford's head just bobbed slightly forward, but his legs and body
never moved, and if he had had a coin between his knees and the
saddle it would have been inflexibly retained. His hands were
so perfect that the most troublesome animals went kindly with
him. Mr. Gollan owned a particularly awkward two-year-old,
with whom the boys in the stable, and jockeys who rode him
in his races, could do nothing, so given was he to bucking and
playing all kinds of unexpected tricks. Mr. Gollan, having
asked Clifford if he minded riding it, went down to the start to
see the pair arrive and to observe what happened afterwards.
Clifford carftered up with one foot out of the stirrup, altering
the webbing, and when the owner asked how he was getting on,
replied, ** Why, sir, he couldn't go kinder; he's just asking what
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8 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
I want him to do! I can't make out how the boys manage to
upset him.'*
All Colonials regard England as ** home," and home accordingly
in 1895 Mr. Spencer GoUan came. With him he brought several
horses, including Ebor and Norton, who were sent to Mr. Arthur
Yates's stable at Alresford, and the first time I ever saw Mr. Gollan
was on arriving at Sutton one day, whtn I found him riding a
schooling gallop on the son of Ascot and Romp over the fences.
Another good one that he imported, an animal indeed of quite
different class, was a big, seventeen-hand horse called Culloden,
who, it is said, ** could lose Merman." Culloden was a particularly
nice horse to ride, and would have comported himself admirably in
Rotten Row; but he met with an accident, and never ran in this
country ; nor, I think, did The Possible ever carry silk. The Possible
was by Nordenfeld, Musket*^ best son, and on Australian form came
out about eleven pounds in front of Merman. With the horses
came Hickey, a jockey and trainer who did excellent service for his
master, winning many races on Norton and Ebor, though occasion-
ally Mr. Gollan himself performed on the latter, and in 1897 was
successful in four events over a country. Mr. Gollan is rather
amused at the generally accepted statement that Colonial-bred
horses are slow jumpers. One of those he brought over with him,
Ocean Blue by name, was, he declares, the quickest jumper he ever
saw, and an exceptionally good horse moreover. Pounamu was
another who was naturally expected to do big things, and would
probably have done them had he appeared on English racecourses,
there having been very little to choose between him and Knight of
Rhodes, at this time a stable companion, for in course of time
Mr. Gollan left Alresford and took up his residence at Lewes, where
his horses were trained by Escott. Count Potocki, travelling through
England to purchase horses for the Russian Government, heard of
Pounamu, came to see him, and was delighted. "I've journeyed
through the whole of the United Kingdom to find this horse! " he
remarked to Mr. Gollan, and for three thousand guineas it changed
hands. Ocean Blue, it may be added, had a curious and dangerous
trick ; he used to swallow his tongue and choke himself, and as a
horse cannot gallop without wind, this ugly habit was of course
fatal to his success when he put it in practice.
It is naturally with Moifaa that Mr. Gollan's name is chiefly
associated, seeing that the horse won the National for him, and
passed i«to the possession of His Majesty the King, though Australian
Star is one of several others that should not be forgotten. Moifaa,
a son of Natator and Denbigh (against which mare, as stated on a
former page, Mr. Gollan won his first flat race), was bought and sent
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MR. SPENCER GOLLAN 9
to England by Mr. Gollan's brother, and made his first appearance
in this country at Hurst Park in the January of last year, finishing
nowhere to Bobsie. On his second attempt he did a little better —
running third at Sandown for the Mole Handicap Steeplechase, and
at the same place some three weeks afterwards he finished fourth in
a field of eighteen for the Liverpool Trial Chase won by Patlander,
with such useful horses as Drumcree, Deer-slayer, May King,
Napper Tandy, Libert^, Shaun Aboo, and others behind him. The
Liverpool was his next outing, and nothing like confidence was felt —
Mr. Gollan thought what he had was **a good jumper's chance," and
it was no doubt his capacity in this
direction that won him the race,
for he gained the best part of two
lengths at every fence, and, nicely
handled by Birch, as Turf history
records, won by eight lengths from
Kirkland, who was giving him three
pounds. He started at the long
odds of 25 to I, and a few good
judges backed him for the reason
that they had been struck by the
style in which he went at the three
jumps that come close together
on the Sandown Course. As to
Moifaa's appearance, his picture
heads this article, and readers may
judge for themselves; but his capa-
city is undeniable. ** We think
Ireland has horses that can lep," a practice spin
an enthusiastic Irishman exclaimed
as Moifaa returned to the paddock after the race, "but I never
saw one that could lep like this one!" In the big steeplechase
at Manchester subsequently Moifaa did not greatly distinguish
himself, and has not won since March, 1904.
When Mr. Gollan was approached by Lord Marcus Beresford
with an offer for the horse nothing was said as to the identity of the
would-be purchaser. Lord Marcus being largely interested in the
purchase and sale of bloodstock, it did not strike Mr. Gollan that
His Majesty was looking for something to replace Ambush II.
Moifaa, however, was sold to the King, and sent to Egerton House,
where one may be very sure that Marsh, an old steeplechase jockey,
who long since knew everything about the game that could possibly
be learnt, devoted his very best attention to his charge. He had
won Two Thousands, Derbies, and Legers for his royal Master, and
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10 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
to win a National al?o would have been a special triumph ; but the
big horse had ways of his own which his friends at Epsom — Hickey
and Page, together with his owner — perfectly well understood, and
for some unknown reason he did not seem to get on at Newmarket.
Before the Grand National last year, the King's jockey, Anthony,
having had a fall which it had been feared would incapacitate him,
George Williamson was engaged to ride, but he had the bad luck to
be severely kicked shortly before the race, and Dollery wore His
Majesty's colours. Moifaa started first favourite at 4 to i, which
SEAHORSE II.
(Photograph by Clarence HaHey, Neumarket)
shows beyond all doubt that a great many people put faith in his
capacity, though others, including those who knew most about him,
would not have him at any price, and argument ran high as to whether
he was merely a high-blower, a whistler, or an unmitigated roarer.
For the National of 1905 seven-and-twenty horses went to the
post, and no fewer than twenty of them fell or were pulled up,
Moifaa being one that fell. It was thought after the Liverpool race
that the last had been seen of him ; but happily this was not the
case, for he came out in the Grand Sefton Steeplechase in November,
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MR. SPENCER GOLLAN ir
and with 12 st. 5 lb. on his back finished sixth in a field of sixteen,
the useful five-year-old Hack Watch winning. Although Mr. Gollan
had parted >vith Moifaa he was not without hopes of securing the
National for the second time with Seahorse II., an imported son of
Nelson and Moonga. Seahorse II. had 10 st. 7 lb. to carry, Moifaa
II St. 12 lb., and at the weights Mr. Gollan fancied that the chestnut
would have the best of the brown ; but in the National all sorts of
things happen. A loose horse ran across Seahorse as he was coming
to a fence, interfering with him so seriously that his chance was
completely destroyed ; and O'Brien, seeing that perseverance was
THB ROW FROM OXFORD
hopeless, pulled him up; but Seahorse lives to fight another day,
and is likely yet to do something to justify his importation.
To describe Mr. Spencer Gollan's successful achievements in
other branches of sport would far exceed the limits at command,
but something must be written about the famous row from Oxford
to London. Some years ago, before locks had been erected, and
when consequently the frequent delays on the river, now inevitable,
did not take place, half a dozen enthusiastic Guardsmen had done
the journey in sixteen hours, and it occurred to Mr. Gollan to see
whether, in spite of the locks, this record could not be reduced ; so
he pressed into service two professional scullers — Towns and
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12 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Sullivan, both good men — and set to work to try. Towns Mr. GoUan
tersely describes as ** the man to put money on/* for one of the few
things he does not know about sculling is when he is beaten. On
one occasion his boat split in the course of a race and gradually
filled with water, Towns continuing to struggle on against the
almost impossible handicap. After a certain amount of practice
the trio started with three pairs of sculls, and Mr. Gollan accom-
plished what he describes as the hardest day's work he ever did in
his life. Sullivan was so far from fit that he actually lost i6 lb. on
the journey, but though slightly delirious fifteen miles from home
finished well. The three struggled on, and, including the tedious
waits, finally reached their destination in 13 hours 55 min.
Mr. Gollan is so much occupied with practical affairs that he
has little time to write, which is the greater pity as* he possesses a
very happy knack of narrative. I cannot resist reproducing here an
extract from a letter he kindly wrote me some time since, though I
have previously published it in other pages. He was telling me
about the famous son of Musket who did such great things in
Australia, and whose sons and daughters have distinguished them-
selves in this country. ** Carbine," he writes, ** whom I knew well,
was a wag. He started racing life in the training stable of his
owner, Dan O'Brien, of Riccarton, New Zealand ; O'Brien bought
him at the annual yearling sale at Sylvia Park, near Auckland.
Breaking came easy to the good-natured colt, but his laziness was
abnormal, and he had almost to be dragged. When his first two-
year-old race came, O'Brien was absent in the North, and the head
lad had charge. The lad's telegram to the owner was as follows:
* Colt left at the post. Won a head.' The next day Carbine was given
another spin, the wire this time reading: *Colt left again. Won
easily.' As a three-year-old Carbine migrated to Australia, where he
won most of the good things, and incidentally all hearts. To watch
him go to the post was worth a sovereign at least. * Old Jack' could
see no good in a preliminary pipe-opener, so stuck up in a passive-
resister kind of way and waited for his trainer to arrive and threaten
him with the slock whip — it was only a threat, and the horse knew
it ; still, he jogged on another hundred yards to repeat the scene.
Sometimes his trainer, Walter Hickinbotham, would chase him
with a willow branch ; in wet weather an umbrella suddenly opened
provided the incentive. In any case the old chap had his fun and
got his cheer. But when he turned to race, what a change! Cool
and resolute, fast and a stayer, six furlongs or three miles, good
going or in the deep, no excuses had to be made for the champion.
And when the great Finis crowned the Opus, winning the Melbourne
Cup with lost, sib., two miles in the fastest time on record —
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MR. SPENCER GtO^lj^j^ ^
how they rose at him! Folks don't cheer here, but ihe^' do in
Melbourne/'
To talk to Mr. Spencer Gollan, and observe his placid, seJf-
possessed, courteous manner, with a quiet vein of humour at
intervals marking his utterances, one would not feel inclined to
suspect that he was so essentially a man of action ; but c:>Tie must
be extraordinarily good at any of the numerous games he pJays in
order to have anything distantly approaching a chance with him.
He would be a very bad man to fight and certain to catch you if
you ran away. If the Colonies contain many such sportsmen, the
Old Country has reason to be proud of its offspring.
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THE HOLKHAM PARTRIDGE WEEK
1905
BY MAJOR ARTHUR ACLAND-HOOD
The shooting season which is now drawing to a close has, generally
speaking, proved the best for partridges since the bumper years
of 1885 and 1887, and at Holkham Lord Leicester's friends enjoyed
the best week ever known, a short account of which and the methods
employed to obtain these good results may be of interest to the
readers of the Badminton Magazine.
Holkham has been celebrated for the excellence of its shooting
ever since the middle of the eighteenth century, but the present
Lord Leicester, who is a past master of all branches of the art, has
perhaps done more than any of his predecessors to add to its fame,
and we were all very glad indeed to see him well enough to come
out and superintend the operations this year from his pony-cart.
With regard to partridges this is an ideal estate, as the extent
is great, the soil not too light, i.e. good barley land ; it is highly
farmed ; the fences are good, and, generally speaking, fairly high ;
vermin are well kept under, and rabbits are not tolerated ; a very
good breeding stock is left on each beat ; there are practically no
foxes (as it is not a hunting country).
A great many owners and lessees of shootings have obtained
very big bags by a good deal of artificial help, and it is in this that
Holkham differs from the majority of partridge estates ; no artificial
aid has ever been given either in the way of hand-rearing, Hun-
garian eggs or birds turned down, *' remises," or even artificial
shelters for the guns to stand behind, specially planted crops, etc. ;
and as the partridges are never driven until November, and on some
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THE HOLKHAM PARTRIDGE WEEK 15
occasions later, they are full-grown, well-feathered, and strong on
the wing ; in fact, it is a genuine wild shoot of the best description.
The ground carries a lot of hares and many wild pheasants ;
these would be a nuisance when driving, so Lord Coke goes over the
ground in October accompanied by a large party of the tenants for
the purpose of killing down the hares before they have done damage
to the root crops, and also shooting every pheasant that is unwise
enough to breed outside the park wall.
This hare-shooting has several advantages, as, independently of
the benefit to the farmers and their enjoyment, it shows what sort of
THB CANADA GSBSB, HOLKHAM LAKE
stock of partridges there is on each beat, and also exhibits the
natural flight of the coveys when disturbed. On the Warham beat
this year 314 hares were killed in one day in this way early in October ;
if those hares had been left till November, what a lot of damage they
would have done to the tenants' root crops, and what a nuisance
they would have proved on the big days' partridge-driving !
Independently of the " driving " ground proper, there are several
outside beats on which ** walking up '* and ** half-mooning " is prac-
tised throughout the latter end of September and October ; by this
means 1,500 brace were accounted for in 1905.
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i6 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
The driving beats, four in number, are known as Warham,
Quarles and Egmere, Wighton, and Branthill and Crabbe; each
beat consists of about 2,000 acres of highly-farmed land. Joyce,
the head keeper, besides having a pheasant beat in the park, is
responsible for Branthill and Crabbe ; he has under him a vermin-
killer.
Symons is a partridge keeper pure and simple, and he looks
after Warham and Wighton, well over 4,000 acres of land ; I saw
scarcely any work of rats or vermin, not a rabbit, and the efficient
way he supervises his great stretch of country can be judged by the
bags obtained off it. I may add that he is a bit of a pessimist by
nature, and will seldom allow that he has any great number of birds
on his beat, so that this year when he admitted that he had ** some "
we expected to see something out of the common, and we did.
Quarles and Egmere is looked after by Baker, who also has
Waterloo and Crabbe. There are four keepers with three under-
men in the park ; two keepers entirely for partridges outside the
park.
From the above it will be seen that the Holkham keepers have
plenty to do, and the fact that they never change goes to show that
they like their work and are comfortable and happy.
As the driving does not take place till November the country is
of course bare ; there are hardly any roots, the birds are very strong,
and so the drives must be long in order to bring in the country
properly. The fields are large, averaging over thirty acres ; the plan
generally adopted is to begin with one or two down-wind drives
towards a general centre, and then to work the whole beat as much
as possible towards that centre throughout the day. The drivers
are all employes of the estate and thoroughly know their business,
they are good walkers and make no noise.
It is too dark to shoot after 4.30 p.m. as a rule on a November
day, so the start is early, the first shot being fired shortly after
9 a.m. by the day (9.30 Holkham time, as the clocks are kept half
an hour fast). By this means about twenty long drives are included
in the day. As there are no heaths or bracken, and hardly any
roots, it is rare for any one gun to get a very heavy drive such as
is obtained elsewhere from heaths or remises, but the birds scatter
more and there is plenty of shooting all along the line. The birds
are much packed, and very often these packs do not get broken up
by the last drive. But however many birds may break out and
escape, the ground is never shot over a second time ; by this means
a very good ** unpricked " stock is certain to be left, and year after
year good bags are obtained. So much for the advo^ntages of
leaving a good stock.
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THE HOLKHAM PARTRIDGE WEEK j^
I will now try to give a short account of the hig dsty at
Warham. It was a beautiful morning with a light south wind, and
as Synnons had reported that he had some birds, we expected a more
than ordinarily good day. The party consisted of Prince Frederick
Dhuleep Singh, Lord Coke, Colonel Coke, Colonel Custance, Major
C. Willoughby, Mr. W. Forbes, Mr. W. Barry, and the writer;
there was no weak spot through which birds might escape.
At Holkham everyone makes up his own lunch and puts it into
a little bag ; only bread, cheese, beer, whisky, and soda, etc., are
sent out, and we always lunch in the open under a stack or hedge ;
it is by no means considered the principal function of the day,
although plenty of time is allowed for it.
WILD DUCK FLIGHTING FROM HOLKHAM LAKE TO THE OBELISK WOOD IN
SEARCH OF ACORNS
A three-mile run in a motor brought us to the meeting-place,
we had soon taken our places for the first drive, down-wind,
and the beaters were seen bringing in a very big bit of country. It
was interesting to watch a covey get up far away, pick up one or two
more as it came along, and then pitch in a small piece of thin roots
some 250 yards in front of the guns. Hardly had they done so
when another lot coming over the field disturbed those that had just
pitched, and they and many other coveys, making a noise like
thunder, came swishing down on the right-hand guns, a most nerve-
trying ordeal to go through for a start. A very large pack broke
out to the left of the guns without coming within shot, then a few
coveys dashed over, and the drive was finished — not a very prolific
NO. cxxvi. VOL. xxiL— January 1906 B
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i8
THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
one, as they came over so packed and many crossed out of shot.
Still, they had all gone in the right direction, either into the third
drive, or else away across a narrow grass valley and to the North
Point, a strip of arable land which runs out into the sea, the ^i^c^
dc resistance of this beat, as any coveys that go there are pretty well
bound to come back to their own home again.
Directly we had picked up our birds from the first drive we
moved on to the second stand, almost at right angles; here the
second lot of drivers brought in some stubbles and fallows over a
thick double hedge. One big pack broke out to the right and
StiObU
i ^ >»- i.
^ I DrukA \
Roots \
ToWelU-
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Marshes
SKETCH OF THE WARHAM BEAT
crossed on to the North Point, another fine pack came right over
the centre guns and got well tapped, a few more coveys came over,
and that drive was finished. We had now got a great body of birds
into the driving-ground proper of the day. The third drive, down-
wind and across a road, with a dazzling sun straight in one's eyes, was
a very pretty one ; two very big packs came over, and many coveys,
79 birds being accounted for. It may be as well to say here that at
the end of each drive the keepers whose business it is to collect
the birds take them to the game cart, where they are counted
before being hung up; by this means a fairly accurate account of the
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THE HOLKHAM PARTRIDGE WEEK
19
total for each drive is obtained, a list of which accompanies this
description.
The next drive was to be from the North Point, and on look-
ing at it it was difficult to believe that a good result could be obtained
from those bare stubbles and fallows. There was one root field
away to the right, but that was not included in this drive ; all the
birds were brought over from a huge fallow field. We had hardly got
to our places when the horn was blown, and the first birds appeared
over a nice high hedge, with trees here and there. At the beginning,
a few birds disturbed by the right flankers came over the left-hand
guns, then there was a sound like the surf breaking on the beach
after a storm at sea, and an enormous pack dashed over the centre
guns, some of them breaking off and swinging right down the
SHOOTING
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line and then back over the drivers' heads, away to the salt marshes
on the edge of the sea, to remain there in safety for the rest of the
day. Those who were favoured with the attentions of the big lots
found that turning round to shoot birds which had passed was
even more fatal than usual, as the very bright sun completely
blinded one.
This was a model specimen of a partridge drive ; every gun had
plenty of shooting, the birds were much packed, and twisted and
turned in every direction ; 168 was the number picked up. Lord
Leicester arrived in his pony carriage just as the drive began,
and took the keenest interest in the proceedings, Lady Leicester
telling him the results of our efforts. The plan of operations now
B 2
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20 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
was to drive backwards and forwards across the strip of marsh land
running between the North Point and the rest of the beat, there
being two separate drives off each end of the North Point; this
gave time for the birds to collect, fresh ground being brought in
from the flanks now and then. Lunch came fairly early, at about
a quarter to one, and by that time rather over four hundred brace
had been picked up. After lunch so many birds had broken back
on to the ground that we started on in the morning that it was
decided to go back there and bring them in again ; this entailed
half an hour's quick walking, but the result was worth it, as when
the first drive of the day was repeated there appeared to be almost
as many birds as before ; these were brought into the main ground,
and half a dozen more drives to and from the North Point were
successfully brought off. The last drive of all took place just after
the sun had gone down and the light was beginning to fail ; but the
partridges, still fresh and a good deal packed, played the game
splendidly right up to the finish. The rough total of each drive was
as follows: 47, 46, 79, 168, 88, 102, 74, 132, 41, 112, 71, 136, 42, 27,
III, 66, 37, 92, 80, 45 = 1,596; besides this, about forty dead and
wounded birds were either picked up by the retrievers or found by
the drivers and keepers when moving between the drives; and on the
following day Symons and a few men with retrievers searched the
hedges carefully for dead and wounded, and brought the total up
to 1,671 partridges. He reported a splendid stock still left on the
ground to provide another first-rate day next season.
The second day's beat was over ^uarles and Egmere. There
were a nice lot of birds on the higher end of the beat, but we could
not do much with them in the morning — we had twenty-two drives
on this day, and the total came to 515 brace, the best drives being
58, 61, 52, S^, 80, 67, 89, 51, 48, and 57.
The third day, on the Wighton beat, an enormous lot of birds
broke out to the right of the guns during the first drive, and as they
went on to the next day's beat we saw no more of them at the
time. This pack consisted of about four hundred birds ; and they
must have been joined by many hundreds more during the day, as
they kept breaking over that particular hedge, and it was hoped that
they would assist us on the morrow, so were left undisturbed. In
spite of this we had most excellent sport, getting 647 brace, in-
cluding the pick-up. The drives, twenty, were as follows: 34, 95,
68, 71, 72, 39, 38, 37, 90, 115, 80, 70, 43, 62, 37, 63, 67, 49, 44,
and 63.
The last day was over Joyce's beat, Branthill and Crabbe. On
this ground it happens that there are very few stubbles this
year, and there were not so many partridges as on the other
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THE HOI^^HAM partridge Week
2t
beats; however, we hoped to brin^ in the larf^e packs that had
escaped us on the previous day. These hopes were disappointed, as
we had the mortification to see the whole pack get up and go
straight back in the beaters' faces, and rising high in the air they
flew two miles down wind and were lost. Joyce and Lord Coke
took this very philosophically, as they said, ** What a grand
breeding-stock they will make for next season ! " Owing to this
disaster the bag was considerably lighter than it would have been,
and we got only the comparatively light one, for Holkham, of
377 brace !
Thus ended the best week's partridge-driving ever known in
this country. No special effort was made to obtain a record, but it
came all the same ; and not the least enjoyable part of it was to
note the evident delight of Lord Leicester at the successful outcome
of his plans, which also reflect the greatest credit on his keepers,
drivers, and flankers.
[The photographs which accompany this article, which have been taken by
Mr. Davidson, a resident on the estate, show a glimpse of another phase of sport to be
enjoyed here. The lake, which lies close to the house, is the winter headquarters of
thousands of duck, teal, widgeon, and rare sea birds of every description. There is
also a large flock of Canada geese, who fly about all over the country, but never mix
themselves with the genuine wild geese (I^inkfoot and Bean geese), enormous flocks of
which inhabit the marshes by day, and feed on the uplands by night. In hard weather
the wild ducks on the big lake may be seen making their way to the Obelisk and other
woods to feed on the ilex acorns, of which they are very fond. They afford most
exceJJent flighting on these occasions; on one morning some three or four years ago
four guns brought in ninety-five wild duck at breakfast time ! A real good morning.]
•■'*'te.'
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A TYPICAL IRISH "GATE"
(Photograph by Miss L. E. Bland)
HUNTING IN IRELAND
BY MAJOR ARTHUR HUGHES-ONSLOW
Even the most unobservant of Englishmen on going to Ireland
must be struck with the great difference between that country and
his home. The longer he remains across the Irish Channel the
greater will that difference appear, and this is certainly no less
remarkable in the hunting field than in other spheres of life.
Probably the first thing that the stranger will notice is the
entire absence of gates. The ordinary English wooden gate is
unknown ; there are a few iron gates which are generally fastened
up with a chain or rope, and are quite unopenable on horseback ;
but the entrances to most fields are blocked up with loosely-built
stone walls, called " stone gaps,*' or with ploughs, old donkey carts,
logs of trees, or any kind of rubbish which will keep in the cattle,
and can be opened up with more or less ease when the stock have
to be shifted to other pastures.
Consequently, to hunt in Ireland, fences, and lots of them,
must be jumped. No matter how slowly hounds are running, and
often when only going to draw a covert, it is a case of jumping
in and out of every field. This has an undoubted effect in reducing
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HUNTING IN IRELAND ^3
the numbers of those who hunt, for directly a matn begins to lose
his nerve and dislike jumping he must give up hunting, as he can
never leave the road, and the roads in Ireland are shockingly bad
riding. They are covered with loose stones and have no grass
sidings.
It is not much use for the funker to wait till a lot of people
have jumped the fence before him ; they will not knock down the
bank and ditch as they do a thorn fence in England ; even if they
do ** soften " the bank a little the ditch remains, and if a bank is
at all rotten it is made worse instead of better by people jumping
over it. An Irish field are well aware of these facts, and few if an^^
OVER A BANK
(Photograph by Miss L. E. Bland)
go out who do not mean to have a cut at every obstacle that comes
in their way.
Another result of the absence of openable gates is that hardly
any Irishmen carry hunting whips — a cutting whip called a ** cut-
lash" in the south, or an ash-plant often rammed into the long
boot, being the substitute. When an Irishman says that he *' with-
drew "he does not mean that he retired, but that he pulled his
ash-plant out of his boot. This reminds me of an old horse-dealing
yarn which I used to hear told of Lord Spencer when he was Lord
Lieutenant :
"Can he jump?" asked his lordship of a farmer who wanted
to sell him a horse.
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24 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
** Is it lep, ycr honner ? '' returned the would-be seller. ** Me
son was riding him with the Ward's last Saturday when he came
to a fince that was absholutely onpractacablc. With that he withdrew,
and poshitively hurried him at it, and the little harse cleared it by
the dirt of your Excellancy's thumbnail ! " — at the same time hold-
ing up a grimy thumb with the deepest of black edges.
As hunting-whips are so seldom carried, dogs who like to bark
at horses are extraordinarily bold and aggressive. I scored pro-
perly off one of these soon after I went to Limerick. I was jogging
along to the meet, and a man on a young horse was about two
hundred yards in front of me. As he passed a cottage out rushed a
mongrel sheep-dog straight at the horse's fore-legs, barking
furiously, and nearly frightened him over the bank. Then the
brute nipped back into the cottage and waited to play the same
game on me ; but I was ready for him, and let him have it with
all my heart, the lash curled fairly round him, and with a howl of
rage and pain he fled to his den. He never forgot it, and used to
growl surlily whenever I passed that way, but he never rushed out
at me again.
The fences also are very different from those in the great
majority of English hunting countries, and require exactly opposite
treatment. In England the general rule is to go steady when the
ditch is on the near side of the fence, and to put the pace on when
it is on the far side; with a bank-and-ditch in Ireland it is just the
reverse. You can safely go a good pace when the ditch is towards
you, but you must steady if it is on the landing side ; if you don't
it is good odds that your horse will not change his feet properly
on the bank, and that you will be landed in the ditch.
If the fence be a double — that is to say, has a ditch on each side
— the bank is sure to be broad enough to enable a horse to change
properly when going at a fair pace. The worst sort of fence is a
high narrow bank with a ditch on the far side.
Falls are certainly more numerous in Ireland than in England,
both on account of the number offences jumped and their trappy
and intricate character; for in Ireland it is quite as fatal to jump
too big as not to jump big enough. When a horse jumps a bank
without touching it he is said to ** overall " it, and if there be any-
thing of a ditch on the far side it is long odds on his getting a fall.
On the other hand, when a horse falls in Ireland he is let down
fairly gently, and is not turned clean head over heels as he is by a
stout bit of timber or strong binder in England.
The great majority of Irishmen undoubtedly hunt to ride, and
right hard they do it. Their horsemanship is of a rough-and-ready
type, more vigorous than graceful — due, I think, to the almost
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HUNTING IN IRELAND 25
universal use of the snaffle bridle, which with nine horses out often
renders the niceties of horsemanship impossible. A south of Ireland
stud-groom whose master's horse I was going to ride once said to
me, ** Take a dangerous tight howlt of her head, Captain, and knock
hell's blazes out of the finces ! " thus neatly describing the style of
riding which he admired. There are of course many first-class
horsemen in Ireland to whom the above remarks in no way apply.
The country folk, especially in the south, are very keen about the
sport, and little work is done when the hounds are about ; the
natives collect in crowds at a favourite covert, and their yells and
shouts when the fox breaks are something to remember. It is a bad
CHANGING ON A TRAPPY FENCE
(Photograph by Miss L. E. Blarui)
sign when there are none of them about a covert, for it means that
there is not much chance of a fox.
Nearly all Irish packs are hunted by amateurs. At the present
time the Meath, Kildare, Kilkenny, Duhallow, Tipperary, Limerick,
and Galway, among others, are hunted by their Masters, and it is
only a year or two ago that Mr. Robert Watson gave up the Carlow,
having hunted them for over fifty years — surely a grand performance.
Curiously enough, most of the hunt servants are Englishmen,
and with the exception of Jim Brindley of the Ward Union Stag-
hounds I have never hunted with an Irish professional huntsman.
Champion and F. Goodall, the last two professionals in Kildare, were
both English, as was Gosden with the Duhallow.
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26 THE HADMINTON MAGAZINE
A considerable stir was caused in the English hunting world by
the introduction of " capping " in some hunts two seasons ago. It
has been the custom in Ireland from time immemorial. The usual
*'cap'* is 2s. 6d. with Foxhounds and is. with Harriers, and all pay
whether subscribers or not ; in Kildare a subscriber can compound
his cap for an extra ^^5.
In the matter of scent I think Ireland holds the advantage.
There may not be any more brilliant scenting days, when the
hounds seem tied to their fox, than there are in England, but I am
sure there are far fewer really bad ones, in fact there are very few
days without a fair scent.
It is generally held that a horse can carry a stone more weight
in Ireland than he can in England, and I think this is a fair esti-
mate; a bank takes less effort to jump than a fly-fence, and the
going is generally good, for it is all grass, and there is no ridge and
furrow, consequently heavy-weights get on very well ; in addition to
which there is no heavy cart blood in Ireland, so the big man is not
likely to be riding a horse whose dam spent most of her life hauling
coals or between the shafts of a brewer's dray. All the farm work
is done by light mares or geldings, and until the ever-to-be-regretted
introduction of the hackney a few years ago by a sadly mistaken
Congested District Board enthusiast it was difficult to buy any-
thing but a well-bred one. The alleged pedigree might not be
strictly accurate ; horses were not all by Ascetic and some other
famous sires as usually alleged, but the hard fact remained that any
colt bred in Ireland was the offspring of a thoroughbred horse and
a mare full of good blood, and I believe this is still the case with
the vast majority of Irish-bred horses.
The observant stranger will notice that there are scarcely any
second horsemen. The Irish foxhunter can seldom afford such a
luxury, which fact undoubtedly makes for sport, as numbers of
foxes are headed and runs spoilt by the crowds of second horsemen
that are found in all fashionable English countries.
One of the most notable features of the Irish countries that I
know — namely, Meath, Kildare, Kilkenny, Tipperary, Limerick, Du-
hallow, and the packs about Cork — is the absence of woodlands.
Nearly all the coverts are gorse, either artificial or growing wild on
hillsides or bogs ; and I believe this is also the case in the countries
which I do not know. Cub-hunting is rendered very difficult by this
want of woodlands. Some of these gorses are very big and very
thick, and I have had some weary waits while a fox was skulking
about in their fastnesses and refusing to face the open. Many of
these gorses are in the most exposed situations on bleak hillsides
where no shelter can be got; of one **Cryhelp" in the Kildare
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HUNTING IN IRELAND ^7
country I have most uncomfortable recollections, as it nearly a/ways
blew a gale and rained in torrents when we drew it.
I saw a curious incident at " Maine " covert in Limerick. It
is a large gorse, and outside the covert proper there is a lot of
wild gorse growing on the hillside. We had been trying for an hour
or more to force a skulking fox to leave it, but the most we could do
was to hustle him out of the covert into the wild gorse and back
again. Presently I saw him coming along the ditch just outside the
covert ; he caught sight of me and clapped down where a bush hung
over the ditch about ten yards from where I was. At the same time
a hound walked along the ditch straight to meet him, and I awaited
•• WBLL IN " — THB RESULT OF NOT CHANGING PROPERLY ON THE BANK
events. When they were about two yards apart the fox showed
all his teeth and snarled viciously. The hound didn't like the look
of him at all, but he couldn't turn and bolt, for he knew that I was
looking. So he just jumped over the fox as if he had been a log,
and marched on down the ditch with his head and stern up, pretending
he had never seen anything. He might have been a coward, but
he was no fool, and was not going to give himself away if he could
help it. As soon as he was gone the fox nipped over the bank
into the covert again.
There are not many hounds in any pack who will single-handed
tackle a fox face to face. Most of them much prefer to have a grab
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28 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
at his brush when his head and shoulders are the other side of the
hole in the fence. A terrier has twice the fight in him that a fox-
hound has, and I think this is due to the fact that all fighting in
kennel has to be stopped at once, so that the foxhound gets no
practice; whereas a terrier running about has many a little scrap to
keep his hand in.
All the countries I have just mentioned are grand to ride over.
Limerick is the one I like the best. The going is good, the
country is nicely undulating, which I much prefer to a dead flat;
the coverts are good and well placed, the fences very varied but
well within the powers of a good horse, and the great majority
can be jumped almost anywhere. From many of the best coverts
it does not matter a bit which way the fox goes, as there are miles
and miles of lovely country in all directions. The town of Limerick
is quite on the outside of the hunting country, which lies to the
south and west of it with Groom as the best centre. The majority
of the fences are fair-sized banks with a ditch on one side or the
other ; there are also some stone walls and doubles. The banks are
sound and firm and have little thorn or gorse growing on them, very
different from some parts of Mealh and Kildare, where the great
bullfinches growing on top of the banks make them quite unjump-
able.
In one district of the county about Askeaton there is nothing
but stone walls, loosely built, and some enormously thick, up to
eight feet in breadth. The land at one time must have been covered
with stones, which have been built up into walls to clear it. The
average height of these walls is about four feet, and the enclosures
are small. It is a most difficult bit of country to live with hounds
in, for it carries an excellent scent and hounds fairly race over it,
spurting at the walls and jumping on and off them without a
second's delay, whereas a horse must be steadied and made to jump
them clean, or to double on the broad ones. If he be allowed to
gallop over them he may not fall, but he is certain to cut himself
badly, for they are as sharp as razors, and the slightest touch means
a nasty gash. If the enclosures were bigger it would be easy enough,
but with the small fields and high walls it is almost impossible to
keep up with hounds in a quick thing, and I have repeatedly seen
them run right away from everybody.
I have enjoyed very fine sport in Limerick, including some of
the best gallops of my life. On turning to my diary I see under the
heading January 22, 1894, ** Met at Athlacca. A disappointing
morning, followed by the best hunt I have ever seen. Found in
some wild gorse on Hartigan*s farm, close to the Maigue, and ran at
a tremendous pace to Lisdouan and straight through the covert and
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HUNTING IN IRELAND
2g
on to Garryfine, where he got to ground. Dista^nce g mW^s, time
45 tnin., all over splendid grass land and without a ^^ngle check.'*
In the eleven years which have passed since then J fta^g known
nothing better. Hounds got away on capital terms with their fox,
and ran at a tremendous pace all through. We did not come across
a single fence which a good horse could not jump, and the ^ofng"
was the very best. A friend who got a fall about half-way through
told me he rode the last three miles by seeing men standing beside
their pumped-out horses in every field. The gallant fox got to
ground in the main earths in Garryfine gorse, about 150 yards in
THE QUBBN'S county AND CASTLECOMKR HOUNDS "MOVING OFF"
(Photograph by Mr. J. P. Tyrrell)
front of the leading hounds. He was none the worse, for we found
him again on February 19, when he again gave us a very fine
run by Croom gorse to Ballynahoun at top speed, then at a steadier
pace past Killiney to Kilmacow cross-roads, where hounds had to be
stopped as it was quite dark.
The Duhallow and Tipperary countries, which lie south and east
of the Limerick, are also splendid riding ; the former, however, is not
quite such good going as the other two, and becomes heavy in wet
weather. In Tipperary some enormous banks are to be found, some
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30 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
with ditches on one or both sides and some without. How and why
these huge fortifications have been erected is a puzzle to me, and I
never got much fun out of jumping them. You have to go at them
slowly, jump half way up, and then reach the top by a second effort.
Some horses will jump boldly from the top, some will come down
in two, and others, if there is no ditch, will walk down them.
Fethard is the best centre for Tipperary, and you can hunt
seven days a week there with fox and hare, for there is a Sunday
pack which goes out regularly after Mass. These Sunday packs
exist in many places. The hounds are a somewhat scratch lot,
composed of foxhounds, harriers (including the old Irish black-and-
tan hound), beagles, and terriers of all sorts, but they afford their
followers a deal of '* divarshun." When the troubles were bad in
Limerick about twenty years ago, and the county hounds were
stopped, a local car driver, a great character, hunted the country
with a pack of this description. He used to keep them in a stable
by day and turn them out into the streets to pick up their living at
night.
The United, the South Union, and the Muskerry hunt the
country round Cork. It is a hilly district, and most of the banks
are stone-faced, and without ditches. On account of the great
amount of wild gorse growing on the hillsides it is often difficult to
find a fox, for they are not over- plentiful, and there are so many
places where they may be lying. Hounds get very tired of drawing
acre after acre of this impenetrable covert.
For many years the cavalry regiment quartered at Ballincollig
used to hunt the Muskerry Hounds. When my regiment, the
loth Hussars, was there, Lord William Bentinck was Master and
huntsman, and first rate in both capacities. We had some capital
hunts, but were somewhat short of foxes, and if it had not been for
one old customer who never failed us, I do not know what we should
have done in the Monday country. It would have been a fearful
calamity if we had caught him ! I hear people grumbling some-
times and saying we have too many foxes in Leicestershire. I wish
they had had some of the long draws and blank days I have had to
put up with ; and it is by no means my experience that foxes run
any better where they are scarce than where they are plentiful.
Kildare is a rather curious country, for one end is utterly different
from the other. The north end is a flat galloping bank-and-ditch
country, while the south is cramped and hilly, with high dry banks ;
a range of mountains runs all along the east boundary, and the Bog
of Allen lies to the west. A fox found towards the east is very apt
to run up the mountains, and hounds have frequently had great
hunts all to themselves among the grouse, the heather, and the
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HUNTING IN IRELAND
31
rocks. There are several big bogs in the country, but Iiic^kily £
do not like crossing them, and seldom do so; worse obstacle ^^^
the domain walls, of which there are a great number. JVf ost o^^ ^^^
men's places in Ireland are surrounded by a wall about iroft^ K-
The fox has several places where he can get over, ofien h>y the K
of the ivy which grows freely on them, but the hounds cax^riot fbJj
him, and much time is lost in taking them round by the riQ ^^
gate. These walls spoil many a run and save many a. fox's iv^^
At Jenkinstown, in Kilkenny, the foxes often used to lie on ti^^ - ' ^*
covered wall, which is broad as well as high. ^'
I had two excellent seasons in Kildare. Colonel R. Sf r
queen's county and CASTLBCOMER hounds — CALLING HOUNDS OUT OF COVERT
(Photograph by Mr. J. P. Tyrrell)
Moore was Master, and Goodall huntsman, the best of the sport
being in the north end, from Cooltrim, Laragh, and Betoghstown,
and in the district round Punchestown and Edestown, all of which
is a capital country to ride over, but requires a really good hunter.
I have no hesitation in saying that if a horse can go well in Kildare,
he will not be found wanting in any country, English or Irish.
A great friend sends me the following note : " The Laragh run,
November 26, 1859. — This is popularly accepted as the record run of
the Kildare Hounds, as well it might be, considering the country run
over (probably unsurpassed in the three kingdoms), thQ distance, the
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32 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
straightness, and the finish. The Master, Lord Naas, had a sprained
thigh, and was driving in a gig; he drew the covert with only a
couple or two of hounds, in order to avoid the chance of chopping
some turned-down cubs. A fox went away at once and crossed the
canal into the Meath country, from which it is probable he had been
hunted the day before. The field picked up hounds at Colinstown,
a Meath covert; two foxes went away, but Stephen Goodall, the
huntsman, refused to hunt them. Shortly afterwards the hunted
fox broke, and the best part of the run began. He went by Kilcarty
covert to Grange, by which time most of the field were settled, and
from there to a small spinney at Swainstown, where they killed him
— 18 miles in i hr. 40 min. over a perfect line of country.*'
But we need not go to such ancient history for records of good
runs. At the opening meet on November 6, 1883, hounds found
in Kerdiffstown and killed their fox in the outskirts of Dublin, more
than a twelve-mile point without touching a single covert ; while
in October 1899, Colonel de Robeck being Master, and Fred
Champion huntsman, they found in a bit of wild bog just outside
Narraghmore Wood, and killed him under the walls of Newbridge
Barracks, a point of ten miles.
As an instance of what hounds will do entirely on their own,
I give an account of a run in Colonel R. St. Leger Moore's time :
*' January 23, 1890. — Found in Copelands and crossed the Carrigower
brook, then over the left shoulder of Church Mountain, where the
ground became quite impassable for horses, being very rough and
thickly covered with snow. Hounds ran on by themselves, and
eventually killed their fox at Humewood Cottages, a nine-mile point,
but Heaven knows how far the hounds ran over the snow-clad
mountains. Time from start to finish three-and-half hours, for two
hours of which no one was near them. Goodall got up soon after
they had killed and saved the mask."
Meath is a fine country, renowned for the tremendous breadth
and depth of its ditches, especially on the Dublin side. Many of
them are eight feet deep and V-shaped, so that if a horse gets in he
takes a lot of getting out, the services of the " wreckers " with their
ropes and spades, and the expenditure of a sovereign, being generally
required.
There is a grand stretch of country round Fairyhouse, and I
have had many a good gallop over it with the Ward Union Stag-
hounds. They try to make the sport as natural as possible, and the
deer is not uncarted in full view of the field, as is the custom in
England. He is turned out a mile or more from the place of meet-
ing, quite quietly, and without being yelled and ridden at by excited
and ignorant crowds of foot and horse. The hounds are then
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HUNTING IN IRELAND 33
trotted up and laid on as they are to the wild stag after the tufters
have been stopped.
I remember one very pretty hunt. It was late in March, and
the weather was hot and dry. When hounds were laid on the scent
was very bad, and they could only pick out the line quite slowly for
a mile or two. The stag had, however, waited for us in the cool
waters of a little pond under some willows. When hounds got close
to him he jumped up, gave himself a shake, and away he went with
hounds hard at his heels. He gave us a grand gallop of some six
miles over a lovely country till he found refuge in another pond,
where he was safely taken.
Kilkenny I don't know well, but it seems to me to be a grand
OVER A BIG TIPPBRARY DOUBLE
(Photograph by Miss L. E. Bland)
galloping country ; the fences, perhaps, are not so formidable as in
some of the other countries which I have mentioned, but as it is
hilly and carries a good scent, a fast horse and a stout one are
most necessary.
An old friend and a good judge sends me his opinion of Kilkenny
as follows : —
1. Wonderfully good scenting country, and nearly all grass.
2. Every conceivable variety of Irish fence.
3. Ample scope for six days a week. (It has been hunted nine.)
4. Very getoverable, and practically no wire.
NO. cxxvi. VOL. jxii.— January 1906 C
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34 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
He winds up by saying that it is the finest country on earth.
He also sends me the following reply by a horse-coping farmer to an
inquiry as to whether he had a good horse for sale : — ** No, Meejor,
I've no very good horse by me now, but I had the right one last year ;
but, Meejor, he was that lazy that you'd no sooner got over one
lep than you had to get out the ashplant to prepare him for the next.
He took a deal of nourishment."
Such is a very imperfect sketch of some of the best hunting
countries of Ireland, and there are others very good — Galway, Ros-
common, etc., in which I have never hunted, besides large tracts
which are at present not hunted for want of a little money to make
coverts, etc. It seems to me that this great national asset is not
put to the use it might be. England is growing more crowded every
year, towns, mines, railways, etc., are ever on the increase, and in
the South of England the shooting interest is making itself very
seriously felt. In Ireland there is room for all and to spare, and
much English gold would be brought into the country through the
development of fox-hunting. Ireland is essentially the country for
a man of moderate means, for a fiver goes a good deal further there
than it does in England.
The one " crab " to the country is the political situation and the
trouble caused thereby. Hunting was never stopped in Ireland be-
cause the people disliked it ; on the contrary, they love it and all to
do with it. But with a view to putting the screw on the landlords,
agents, etc., the wirepullers have often forced the country folk to stop
the hounds. There are lots of nice places in some of the best hunting
districts in the South and West which could be had for next to
nothing, but what Englishman will take them so long as there is
any fear of hunting being stopped ?
There has been very little interference during the last ten or
twelve years, but rumours and alarms have been by no means un-
common, and they are quite sufficient to scare away an intending
visitor. That the majority of the people, even in the South, want
Home Rule I do not believe. I was quartered in Limerick, con-
sidered a hot-bed of Nationalism, when Mr. Gladstone's Home Rule
Bill passed the House of Commons. No sort of enthusiastic delight
was manifested; and when the Lords threw it out, relief and satisfac-
faction were plainly the feeling of the great majority of the people.
Personally I look back upon the six years which I spent in Ireland as
among the happiest of my life, and I have the kindliest recollections
of her and her people. I went about a great deal soldiering, hunting,
and racing, and everywhere met with nothing but kindness and
courtesy; while the fun I had, the good stories I heard, and the
friends I made, have been an enduring joy.
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HUNTING IN IRELAND
35
To the humours of Irish hunting there is no Gtid, and the fun in
the field is inexhaustible. I can only say that those most admirable
sketches ** The Recollections of an Irish R.M.," which first appeared
in these pages, are in no way overdrawn. With the remembrance of
them in my mind, and the certainty that my readers know them and
love them, I hardly dare to attempt anything in the comic line. One
or two stories; however, I cannot resist. I had gone with the
Limerick Hounds to a district which lay a few miles outside of the
country usually hunted. We had been told that we were certain to
find, but we had had a long blank draw when we came to a wood on
MR. J. WATSON — THE MASTER OF THE MEATH FOXHOUNDS
the slope of a steep hill-side. I saw a big crowd of country lads on
the hill about the covert, and I thought to myself ** We shall find
here." Hounds had not been long in covert when a terrific yelling
broke out from the crowd, and frantic wavings in the direction of the
valley. Hounds were galloped up to the spot indicated, and about
three fields off I saw a sheep dog going like the wind. Of course we
thought he was chasing the fox, so hounds were laid on and away
we went over half a dozen good-sized banks. Although hounds ran
fast, they did not settle properly to the line, and instead of carrying
a good head they strung out much as draghounds do. We ran in
this fashion for a mile or so right into the yard of a little farmhouse.
c %
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36 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Then we found out the trick that had been played on us. The
country-folk were determined to see a hunt of some sort, and to
guard against a blank day, so they had stolen a dog from this little
farm and had managed somehow or other to get hold of some fox
litter and smear him with it. Then they carried him in a bag to a
convenient spot, and at the right moment shook him out and started
him for home, aided by a smack from a whip, and yells which rent
the air. They had their bit of fun and we trotted off to our nearest
A MEET OF THE MBATH FOXHOUNDS
proper covert and were lucky enough to redeem the day by a good
hunt.
The following was told to a friend of mine by the very popular
Viceroy to whom it occurred. A sporting farmer had actually
jumped on " His Ex." no fewer than three times. When the latter
soon after landed very nearly on top of the farmer, he was profuse
in his apologies, but all the farmer said was, ** No matter, your
Excellency, you owe me two yet."
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that
MR. AND MRS. SYERS, WINNERS PAIR-SKATING CHAMPIONSHIP 1902 AND I904
ON SKATES AND SKATING
BY EDGAR WOOD SYERS
" A third young lady said it was elegant, and a fourth expressed her opinion
it was swan-like.'' — Pickwick,
Few devotees of skating are aware of the profuse and compendious
literature treating of their favourite pastime.
Since the days of Olaus Magnus and Fitz-Stephen skating has
never lacked historians. Goethe and Klopstock have extolled the art
in poetry and prose in Germany; Garcin and Vail in France; in
England, Evelyn and Pepys, ever curious for any novelty ; Johnson,
though it must not be supposed that the didactic doctor adventured
his ponderous person on " skaits,'' and Wordsworth, with a host of
minor writers, have described its pleasures.
Figure-skating as distinct from speed-skating is of comparatively
modern growth. The earliest book on figure-skating which I have
been able to trace was written by one Robert Jones, a lieutenant of
artillery, and published in London, 1772. This gentleman was
evidently no pioneer in the art, for he describes a number of figures
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38 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
which, having regard to the few facilities for practice in this country,
it is hardly possible he could have evolved unaided. Lieutenant
Jones was acquainted with the following figures, to which he alludes
in detail : the FO, BO, and FI edges, the FO spiral, and the
FO 3, on which he bestows the poetical designation of ** a figure
of a heart on one leg,'' remarking that it was ** a pleasing figure and
but lately known " ; the FO 8 was apparently also known to him.
Plates depicting skaters in various flamboyant attitudes are a
feature of Lieutenant Jones's work. It would appear that, when once
firmly established, skating rapidly grew in popular favour, for a
number of books on the subject subsequently appeared, and a club.
SKATING IN KENSINGTON GARDENS, 1842
which exists with unimpaired vitality, was founded in Edinburgh
about 1780.
The next work of distinction to appear was ** Le Vrai Patineur,"
by J. Garcin, published in Paris in 1813, several copies of which are
to be found in this country. This carried the practice yet further,
and enumerated the following additions : the BO 8, the serpentine,
the spread eagle, FI reverse Q, and the multiple turns, etc.
We now come to the time of Clias, Walker, Clay, and Cycles
(George Anderson), who describes the FO Q, FO reverse Q, the
two-foot 8, and the FO loop. After the foregoing period and from
about i860 a remarkable change is apparent in the style of skating as
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ON SKATES AND SKatiNG 39
practised in this country. The older writers up to and including
Cycles, though advocating a certain necessary restraint, indicated
very clearly that the limbs should have free play and should assist
the movement. Walker states that the position of the arms should
be easy and varied, one being always more raised than the other.
Harewood advocates the attitude of drawing the bow, etc., Cyclos
that the arm should be bent and half raised, the knee bent and
turned well outwards, the toe pointing to the ice.
From such directions we turn with surprise to the canons
of form laid down only a few years later by Vandeervell and Witham,
where we see tentatively set forth those rules which a few years
GUSTAVE HUGEL, WORLD'S CHAMPION 1897, 1899, AND IQOO
later were carried to the extreme of rigidity as set forth in the
following : —
" The elbows kept to the side of the body ; the employed foot
should not ever be allowed to swing." — ** Skating,'* by Douglas
Adams, 1894.
"Employed leg must be kept absolutely straight ; no bend at
the knee is allowed; elbows turned in." — ** Combined Figure Skat-
ing," by G. Wood, 1899.
Such a momentous change in the character of English figure-
skating had for some years a very cramping effect on the develop-
ment of the art. Immense curves and turns effected solely by body
twist were considered its highest expression, and such movements as
loops, cross-cuts, and the many wonderful combinations of them
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40 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
were quite taboo. Some writers, indeed, admitted an occasional
indulgence, but the learner was strictly enjoined to straighten him-
self at intervals, as such diversions could not be executed without
" bending the body and knee and craning the head in advance." All
figures, save gigantic curves and turns which appeared as a mere
incident therein, were regarded as outside the pale and designated
" kickers " ; and truly, as usually demonstrated, they fully merited
the appellation.
The fact that none of the chief skaters of Austria, Sweden,
Norway, and Germany had been seen here accounts for these restric-
ULRICH SALCHOW, WORLD'S CHAMPION I90I, I902, I903, I904, AND I905
tions ; had they, or Jackson Haynes, the celebrated American pro-
fessional who delighted the whole of skating Europe in the sixties by
his grace and skill, visited us, we should probably have been spared
an infliction of rigidity from the effects of which we are not yet
entirely free. It was not till the holding in London of the World's
Championship in 1898, when the three greatest skaters of the
Continent visited us, that the possibilities of the art were fully
appreciated and studied here. The grace and apparent ease with
which such figures as loop change loop, and bracket change bracket.
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ON SKATES AND SKATING 41
both forward and back, could be skated was a revelation to us, and
from that occasion may be dated the renaissance of English skating.
All inteniational figure-skating championships and competitions
consist of two sections: "A," a set of six or seven compulsory
figures — *' Pflichtiibungen " ; and '* B," a free programme — '* Kur-
laufen," of five minutes' duration, in which the competitor introduces
such tours de force and original combinations as he thinks will find
favour in the eyes of the judges.
The tendency of late in free skating seems toward the elimina-
A SITZ-PIRODBTTE
tion of figures of extreme difficulty, and the substitution of easy
graceful movements. There is much to be said in favour of this
innovation, alike as it concerns candidates, judges, and spectators.
Should the candidate fail in the execution of a difficult figure he will
be not only minus so many marks in respect of it, but the continuity
of the representation will be lost, and an inharmonious impression
created. On the other hand, judges may find it difficult justly to
apprise the true value of an intricate figure, seen possibly for the
first time.
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42 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
From the spectators' point of view complicated star figures, for
which the skater has to arrest his progress on each occasion, and
which necessitate a circumscribed field of action, are far less attrac-
tive than the lightness and movement typical of the Vienna school,
which has been so aptly described as ** being like dancing on ice."
Of athletic sports skating alone possesses the attribute of a
patron saint. This distinction is conferred by St. Liedwi, whose
sufferings and virtues deserve a wider recognition. As briefly told,
her history is this :
** St. Liedwi was born at Schiedam in 1380. Persuaded by her
girl friends to skate for her health's sake, against her own inclina-
tions, she was knocked down accidentally on rough ice in 1396, a rib
THE ACCIDENT TO ST. LIEDWI, THE PATRON SAINT OF SKATERS, IN I396
being broken inwards. For the rest of her life she was confined to
her bed, a prey to unspeakable diseases. During her lifetime, of
extreme piety and devotion, visions and marvels surrounded her,
replaced by miracles after her death in 1433.
** In i6t6 she was beatified, and sanctified in 1890. Some relics
of her are preserved in the Carmelite monastery in Brussels." —
From ** On the Outside Edge," by G. Herbert Fowler.
Owing, perhaps, to ignorance of the foregoing relations, we
have never heard of devotees on the eve of some important competi-
tion invoking the saint's aid or dedicating wax tapers to her shrine.
We do not propose to attempt here that pleasant task — the
teaching of the young idea. It is doubtful if a true impression of the
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ON SKATES AND SKATING 43
ever-varying pKDsitions incidental to figure-skating can be conveyed
to the novice in print ; ** the eftest way " is to consult some acknow-
ledged authority as to the essentials of the rudiments, and from
practical demonstration apprehend the first steps. When initial
difficulties have been overcome, as an excellent source of informa-
tion and the most up-to-date may be commended the " Skating
Handbook and Supplement *' of Doctor G. Browne, M.A., of Boston,
published by Barney and Berry, New York; in it will be found the
essence of skating instruction.
From skating to skates is a natural transition, and a brief
account of their evolution, with some typical examples, may be ol
interest.
RACING^ ON THE CURVE
No. I represents a bone skate du;^: up in Moorfields, which
remarkable mine of antiquities it would appear the bygone inhabi-
tants of London regarded- as a species of museum or convenient
repository for the storage of objects likely to be of interest to
succeeding generations.
The date of this skate, formed from the metacarpal bone of a
horse, is conjectural, probably circa 1200. Progression on bone
skates was effected by the wearer punting himself along by means
of a piked staff, and Fitz-Stephen relates how the London appren-
tices were wont — imitative of knights at a joust or tournament —
sportively to charge upon each other thus shod and armed.
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44
THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
" Sometime two runne together with poles, and hitting one the
other, eyther one or both doe fall, not without hurt ; some break
their armes, some their legs."
No. 2 is the earliest blade skate we have seen ; its date is prob-
ably 1664 or thereabouts. It is adorned with a foliated prow, and
is the only example of a decorated skate with which we are ac-
quainted. Right-angled ; radius about y^ ft. ; width of blade, J in.
One might picture such if ** 'Twere not to consider too curiously to
consider so,'* as having shod some one of those gallants who excited
the admiration of Evelyn when he remarked on *' Having seene the
strange and wonderful dexterity of the sliders, on the new canal in
St. James's Park, performed before their Majesties by divers gentle-
men and others with scheets, after the manner of Hollanders."
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ON SKATES AND SKATING 45
No. 3, a German skate, date about 1810. Right angles; no
curve; width of blade J in.
No. 4, Knglish " club skate," about 1855. Radius 4 J ft. ; right
angles; width of blade f^ in.
No. 5, the English skate as used for combined figures and large
turns ; the present day. The method of attaching the blade to the
plates by means of screws and bolts is clumsy. This skate is much
heavier than No. 6. Radius 7 ft. ; obtuse angles ; width of blade
No. 6 is a slight modification of the pattern introduced by
HERR OTTO AND FRAULBIN MIZZI BOHATSCH, WINNERS PAIR-SKATING
CHAMPIONSHIP 1905
Jackson Haynes. It is becoming very popular in England, and is
used abroad by Hiigel, Salchow, Fuchs, Bohatsch, and others. The
row of small teeth cut in the prow enable toe spins and pirouettes
to be effected with ease and without damage to the ice. Radius
about 5 J ft. ; acute angles ; width of blade J in., tapering slightly to
toe and heel.
In conclusion, it is safe to assert that skating is one of the sports
in which the greatest skill has been attained by living exponents.
** Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona *' does not apply in this connec-
tion. Though there was no lack of bards to sing the praises of the
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46 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
skaters of former days, their exploits, as thus recounted, must be
received with discretion.
The legends, still occasionally met with, of skaters apt, among
other feats, to inscribe their names on the ice, or ** by turning and
winding with much adroitness readily in succession to describe upon
the ice the form of all the letters in the alphabet," may be relegated
to the same limbo as the early accounts of speed-skating, in which it
was a not uncommon occurrence for a competitor to cover a mile a
minute ; indeed, one gentleman of extreme velocity has been credited
with the amazing record of two miles in two minutes, vide ** Annals
of Sporting and Fancy Gazette,*' London, 1822.
It is our hope, in bidding the reader adieu, that this little review
may interest some who are already skaters, and induce others to
adventure the ** irons " where, as Dr. Johnson says —
O'er crackling ice, o'er gulfs profound,
With nimble glide the skaiters play ;
O'er treacherous pleasures' flowery ground
Thus lightly skim and haste away.
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THE LESSON FROM NEW ZEALAND
BY ALAN R. HAIG-BROWN
If the New Zealand tour has taught the Rugby Union nothing
else — and I doubt not but that it has taught them a good many
things — it ought at any rate to have instilled into them the fact that
a house divided against itself cannot stand. Club after club of
old-established reputation has fallen before the onslaught of our
Colonists, and but lately I heard a Cambridge man puffing himself
up at the expense of an Oxford brother because, forsooth, his
University had only lost by fifteen points to nil ! Ye gods, what
an enviable distinction !
No purpose will be served, however, by^^cataloguing at length
disasters that are fresh in the minds of all, and it would need a more
far-seeing brain than that of the writer to settle the problem as
to whether the Rugby Union will recognise the cause of their
disasters, not only this season but during preceding ones, in their
split with the professional element. But whether or not the pro-
teges of the handling code receive back the sinners with open arms
and recognise at length that a paid player is not necessarily an
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48 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
assassin, it is vitally important that we of Association inclination
should grasp the lesson that New Zealand has tried to teach the
Rugby players of England, and that we should not only grasp it
but that we should act on it now, henceforward, and for ever.
If we look at the position of Association football in Great
Britain to-day we shall find that it is satisfactory from every point
of view, except, perhaps, that of the amateur. Unfortunately the
latter is being gradually but surely swept away by this inrush of
professionalism, and I cannot help thinking that if he vanishes
altogether the epithet *' satisfactory '* will also vanish from the
dictionary of football. Professionalism by itself is a very excellent
thing ; but it is possible to have too much of a good thing — even
of an excellent thing. The ideal formation of a pastime, and some-
times also of a sport, is professionalism leavened by amateurism.
In the hunting or shooting field we see this is the case, where the
Master and his whips or the host and his keepers unite to show
us the best of sport ; and, still closer to our argument, we witness it
in the Yorkshire cricket eleven with its professionalism combining
with the unsullied amateurism of Lord Hawke.
Amateur football pure and simple cannot live by itself; for a
brief moment or two an isolated team, such as the Corinthians of
the present day or the Old Carthusians of the past, may be found
to be able to tackle satisfactorily our professional combinations ; but
it is not the rule — only the exception. Apply our football system
to the summer game and solely amateur clubs would soon be left
behind. At either pastime we have many brilliant individual
players. Cricket knows how to use them, and gently shuffles them
in with the professional pack. Football allows them to waste their
sweetness and their skill on the deserted arena of an exclusively
amateur club.
We are happily able to state that at the present time, with
the exception, perhaps, of the London Football Association and
some kindred admirers of the good old days, there is no animus
whatever among amateurs against their paid brother; the reverse
is rather the case, and never was the ground more ripe for the seed
of friendship to be sown where hitherto the rank weed of dis-
union has flourished alone. There are perhaps in England to-day
some dozen amateurs playing for professional clubs : ten years ago
there were none. So that we have indeed progressed, though our
progress has not been far enough. In every professional side I
should like to see that leaven of amateurism — not shamateurism
please, but the real hall-marked article — which I mentioned earlier
in my paper. And I should like to see it there for two good
reasons of equal, and, to my mind, inseparable importance. First,
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THE LESSON FROM NfiW ZEALAND 49
for the sake of the professionals themselves; secondly, for the sake
of the amateurs; in a word, for the sake of the game.
The amateurs, as I have already pointed out, are not numerically
strong enough in first-class players to flourish alone, and yet their
talent is far too valuable when it exists not to be used in the way
I have mentioned. Nor are signs wanting in professional football
that there is need of some tactfully restraining hand — some inocu-
lator of the serum of true sportsmanlike feeling.
The crowd at a football match has always in its hands the
j)ower to make or mar a game, even a team. Taken as a whole, the
spectators of the winter game are sportsmanlike, and delight to see
the game played in its proper spirit ; but on nearly every ground nowa-
days there exists a small but always noisy band of what I can only
call the " win-at-any-pricers." Vox populi, vox Dei, and the player
is only human. Small wonder, then, if he is encouraged to repro-
duce dirty tricks and unfair tactics when applause is given to them
which makes up for its scantiness by loudness and reiteration, and
even requests for more. This section of the crowd, too, is great at
referee- baiting ; no decision, however just, against the home side,
but is met with scoffs and jeers; no decision /or them, whether right
or wrong, but is greeted with applause.
The canaille of the football ground, perhaps one per cent, of the
assembled thousands, bids fair to ruin the game for everyone else
and to make the players turn legitimate excitement into illegitimate
unfairness. And here the leaven of amateurism would come in. A
player who had tact and was popular with his side could by a mere
word restore the lost temper, prevent the coming storm ; or with
the spectators he might, with equal success, subdue excitement
that was becoming ugly. Both player and spectator would lend
a ready ear to another player — really a good fellow and a good
performer — whom they knew to be in the right, where they might
be deaf to a whole army of directors.
For a moment we will hark back to the Yorkshire cricket team.
Can one for a moment imagine any of the Yorkshire bowlers sending
down body balls, or indulging in any similar unfair tricks ? Can
one imagine Lord Hawke allowing one of his men to pretend to
bowl and then to run his opponent out ? The answer is a decided
no. Well, we want a Lord Hawke — two or three of them, if
pK>ssible — in every Association team before the public to-day.
Difficult, of course, may be the task to find them, but public school
and university would not say impossible. And here do not let my
reader run away with the idea that I think that only amateurs know
how to play the game, and that the paid player is not a sportsman.
Far from it. I have known more fotil players among amateurs
NO. czxvi. VOL. xxu.— January 1906 D
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50 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
than professionals, but only few of these former have been public
school men. There are degrees of sportsmanship. There is the
man who will forget himself only under extreme provocation. There
is, again, the man who will never forget himself under any provoca-
tion whatever. And somehow I think I can with justice urge that
we are more likely to find this latter type among fellows who have
been brought up on the best traditions of the game, who have been
taught from their earliest age that departure from its unwritten laws
means temporary social ostracism, than we are from any other
class.
To take another aspect of the case, there is no longer any
doubt that the directors will receive with open arms any amateur
player who is up to the standard of the club. In these expensive
days of football it is no small thing to be able to decrease instead
of increase the wages bill, and, moreover, a good amateur will
always introduce some individuality into an eleven, and also a
quantity of dash, which is getting somewhat rare amid the machine-
like methods of professionalism.
Finally, we have before us two examples, one of unity and one
of disunity, between amateur and professional. Cricket, the former,
stands united and flourishing; Rugby football is disunited and
almost shattered. Hitherto Associationists have been inclined to
fall between the two stools; but signs are not wanting that now it is
their tendency to learn their lesson, and it only remains to be seen
whether the unpaid players can fit themselves into the all too few
crevices left for them by the paid. If they can do so, then football
has even a greater future than it has had a past ; if they cannot,
then the game as a national pastime is doomed to destruction within
a few years.
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ON THE AUERHAHNBALZ (CAPERCAILZIE-
STALKING)
BY LT.-COL. COUNT GLEICHEN, C.M.G., D.S.O., C.V.O.
" What ? Shoot capercailzie in the breeding-season ? And shoot
him sitting ? On a tree ? With a scatter-gun ? What an unsports-
manlike thing to do ! And what rotten sport — it can't be sport at
all ! "
Thus to me a British friend. And, until I went on the ** balz " ^
myself, I was inclined to agree with him. But I have altered my
opinion.
In the big pine forests in Germany there are many capercailzie.
As everyone knows, they are extremely shy birds ; and as the forests
are very big, it is impossible to drive them. The only way of getting
them, therefore, is to stalk them ; and as they are so wary that the
crackle of a twig a hundred yards off is enough to send them flitting,
it is only possible to approach them when they are temporarily deaf.
This, by a curious law of nature, happens only during the breeding-
season, at a particular moment when they are calling (** balz-ing ")
to their lady-loves, and therefore nature must be held responsible
for the otherwise unnatural time which one has to choose for their
destruction.
Last April it was my luck to go out on the balz. Place:
the outlying spurs of the Thiiringer Wald. Time : 2.15 a.m., or there-
abouts.
1 To those unacquainted with German, I would say that this word rhymes with the
English word " results."
D 2
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52 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
After an hour's drive through the dark my friend Captain V.
and I were met by a depressed-looking little man at the outskirts of
a pine wood. Two minutes' confabulation revealed the fact that
during the last three mornings a couple of cock had been calling
fairly steadily in a certain direction. So we left the carriage and
plodded uphill on foot. It was still dark, with snow underfoot, and
a fine snow falling — cold, but luckily no wind. Half-an-hour's
trudge over a vile path, and we had arrived in the neighbourhood of
where a cock had been heard the day before. Cartridges (No. 2)
were quietly slipped in, and the gun cocked without noise. Then a
silent wait in the cold for another half-hour. Not a sound, till the
dull sky began to lighten by ever so little — and then an owl began
calling ** Tu-hu-hu-hu-hu " close by. Still no sound of our friend —
and then — a double noise like two dry sticks being clicked gently
together, so faint at first that it did not suggest any live thing. Five
minutes' pause — then the clicking again, but rather louder, perhaps
a hundred yards ahead of us.
V. signed to me to be ready to rush, and with every nerve on
edge we waited. More clicking, more and more continuous, and
then the blessed sound ** Slif-slif-slif-slif ! " At the first "slif " we
bounded forward three paces and halted suddenly, as the noise had
finished with a gentle ** pop." More waiting, perhaps five minutes,
till he began again. ** K6rk^-kork ; kuk-kuk; kak-kak ; kek-kek;
kik-kik .... Slif-slif-slif," etc. — like water being poured gently out
of a bottle : it is impossible to represent the exact sounds — " pst-pop ! "
And there we were, three paces on, it is true, but standing in most
inartistic and uncomfortable attitudes. My right foot was in a
puddle of icy water, and my left twisted round sideways in an almost
unbearable position — yet I dared not move. V. was still more
uncomfortable, for the "pop" had caught him in the middle of a
stride, and he was on one leg, with the other foot balancing un-
steadily in front ; yet he dared not put it down, for fear of breaking
a twig or making some trifling sound. My heart was thumping like
a steam-engine, the fine falling snow was tickling my nose, I felt
desperately inclined to sneeze, and my gun happened to be at an
angle at which it was agony to hold it for more than a minute. Yet
that bird was deathly still, and there was not a whisper in the woods.
Gradually a feeling of anger came over me at the wretched bird
who could keep me waiting for ten minutes in a pool of cold water
and in excruciating agony. I felt inclined to chance everything and
put myself quietly comfortable ; but a stealthy glance at V. re-
assured me — he was suffering even more than I. . . . All things
The sound is more like the guttural Arabic " Kd.f " than any I know.
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ON THE AUERHAHNBALZ
53
have an end, and at last, to our immense relief, the cock began again.
This time, and the next, we did about five paces, and a breathed
**Do you see him ? " from V. reached my ears. I didn't, and shook
my head gently. So at the next rush he went forward with his arm
stretched out, pointing to a particular tree which had been concealed
from me by intervening brushwood. Then came the ** pop " before
he had a chance to lower his arm ; and thus he remained for the
next five minutes, within full view of the bird, and with an expression
of patient suffering on his face. It was all I could do to repress a
chuckle, but this time I caught sight of the bird too — sitting on a
branch, high up, clear against the dark sky, but a good forty yards
off. His neck was stretched out, and he was jerking lightly from
side to side — a sign that he was alarmed at something. So, making
"K6RK-KdRK"
a virtue of necessity, I slowly, very slowly, raised my gun, took a
steady aim, and pressed the trigger.
That bird had been sitting there for a good hour, and he might
just as well have remained there for another second. But he didn't. At
the exact moment when I pulled the trigger I became aware that the
cock had suddenly dived off his branch. The shot flew harmless
over his head, and before I could spot him in the half light and get
the second barrel in he had swooshed down through the smaller
branches and disappeared, with a sharp turn to the right, into a dark
thicket.
I will not describe our feelings.
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54 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
The depressed little man, who had waited behind, came running
up at the shot, and his face fell. But he offered what was meant to
be consolation by relating that in the previous year the very same
cock had been missed — a sitting shot — on the very same branch by
another sportsman at ten yards' range. It was quite possible, for the
cocks are very constant to their tree — but it was no balm to our sore
hearts. All that remained was to listen if cock No. 2 were bail-
ing. But after a short stealthy walk and a listening of a quarter
of an hour we agreed that it was getting too light, so we went
home.
Next morning we were out again about the same time, but in a
different and much more hilly direction. The bird of the previous
day had not begun to balz before 4.15, chiefly because the weather
was dull and cold ; but the following morning was glorious. We
struggled uphill over tree-stumps and through wet moss at break-
neck speed in the dark : for as the weather was quite still and clear,
it was probable that the capercailzie would begin balzing rather
earlier, and we were a trifle late.
Arrived at the appointed spot we listened intently till the land-
scape grew clearer and clearer with the approach of dawn. Another
owl saluted us in the stillness; the mists in the valley below began
to roll away ; the sky became redder and redder — yet not a sound.
Then at last the welcome half-audible click in the distance. As we
moved cautiously forward there was suddenly a loud rustle in the tree
close by, and with much fuss and pother a lordly capercailzie arose
and sailed down towards the valley. So close, and yet he had not
made a single call : evidently bad weather ahead — confirmed by the
colour of the sky. For a long time we stood silent, and then the
clicking began again, but badly, feebly, and at long intervals. It
required infinite patience to get close, for the ** slif-slif '* was very
short, and the hillside rocky, tufty, crackly, and stubby. Meanwhile,
however, as if to make up for our discomfort, the sight of the rising
sun was beautiful. The trees, silhouetted at first black against the
sky, gradually took on their rich dark colouring ; the grey boulders
stood out against the yellow grass ; and the feathery larches paled
to a delicate green. Then, just as the sun's disc began to show, and
tipped the big firs with gold, a regular chorus of small birds' voices
arose, re-echoing the harmony from copse to copse.
And amongst it all the feeble intermittent click and guggle of
our cock drew us onward.
Even when within twenty yards of the bird it was difficult to
spot him. He was sitting on a young pine surrounded by a thicket
of fuzzy spruce ; and although I could get glimpses of bits of him, for
a time I could not see enough to shoot at. Then at last, after im-
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ON THE AUERHAHNBALZ 55
mense precaution, and with my heart going like a sledge-hammer, I
sidled in among the spruce, under protection of his '* slif-slif,'* and
got a good view of him. He was a beautiful bird, with his head out,
beak wide open, wings stretched low on either side, and tail aspread
like a big fan. With the sunlight reflected off his coppery green
throat-feathers and the sheeny black of his tail, it seemed a brutal
thing to slay him. But the sun went behind a cloud and I hardened
my heart.
He fell without a struggle, and we returned in triumph. He
turned the scale at a little over 9 lb. (German).
On the following morning, after half a gale had blown itself out
during the night, I went after another cock in the same neighbour-
hood. The stalk was not remarkable except for one thing — the mar-
vellous hearing power of the bird. We were a good hundred yards
off, and the cock was beginning to balz fairly well, when suddenly,
whilst we were standing absolutely still — in, as usual, desperately
uncomfortable positions — V.'s ankle, which was slewed round all
crookedwise, gave a crack .... We had to wait fifteen minutes by
the watch before that bird began again.
Then again, when fifty yards nearer, to ease my attitude I
happened to lean rather more heavily on one foot. A tiny twig
under the carpet of pine needles snapped, so that I could feel
but hardly hear it. Yet that bird was completely dumb for the
next twenty minutes. At one moment V. breathed quietly his
opinion that we might as well shut up and go home : but we
gave the cock another chance, and at last he began again.
To make a long story short, I got to within twenty yards of
the cock, but there I stuck. He was sitting on a branch, with
the trunk between himself and me, and all I could see was his
tail and a third of the after end of his body. The tail was
already gently quivering with alarm, and had I worked round
he must have seen me and bolted. So I had to chance it, and
fired at what was visible. A crash through the branches told
that I had not missed, but before reaching the ground he found
the use of his wings, and, almost invisible in the dark, half flew
and half ran at a desperate rate into a thicket a few yards off".
That thicket was about a mile square, and we had of course no dog.
My friend was convinced we should never see the bird again,
but, knowing where I had hit him, I ventured to diff'er. We
therefore waited till broad daylight, and turned out a dozen
labourers with a couple of dogs to look for him.
After ten minutes* careful search we found him — stone dead
and within two hundred yards of where he had gone in.
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56 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Amongst other things that were borne in on me during these
three days, I found that considerable science was required for timing
the stalk. If you are in too much of a hurry you run the risk
of making a noise and disturbing the birds. If, on the other hand,
you are too cautious, you will hear an occasional swish through
the air in his direction, and will recognise that his lady-loves
are obeying their lord's behests, and that their lord will shortly
descend from his throne to dally with them below. It is then a
case of ** all over." He honours as many as three or four of them
each morning with his attentions, and at the end of the balzing
season he is looking rather disreputable, worn, and ragged.
About this time his head and neck show signs of many a fight,
sometimes an eye is gone, and his strut has lost its pristine
pride: three weeks, after all, of nothing but fighting are apt to
weaken the knees of the strongest man. By the end of the first
week in May^ however, his trials are over, and he rapidly recovers
on the budding fir-tops, and grows fat and handsome again in
the sunny weather. Family cares do not seem to interest or
weigh upon him, and the hen has to hatch out her four to
six eggs, of a greenish speckly brownish grey, according to her
own lights.
It is difficult to see why the capercailzie should be such a
shy bird, and so well provided by nature that he has,
according to the local saying, an eye and an ear at the end
of each feather. He can have but few enemies. Prowling
foxes and weasels below, and martens and hawks above, may
be a serious danger to young birds, but these are apparently the
only enemies with whom the Cock o' the Woods has to deal ;
and when he has grown to his full strength he need hardly
fear them. Man he can see but little of and hardly know by
sight, yet of him he is the shyest. And here nature has
turned traitor : for the deafness which alone enables brutal
man to approach him during his **slif-slif* call is a purely
natural defect. The opening of the beak to make this noise
causes two little horny plates to descend perpendicularly in
front of each earhole, and whilst they are there the bird
hears literally nothing. A gun may be fired close by, the man
may yell or make any noise he pleases ; and the cock,
absorbed in his own sweet music, pays not the smallest
attention.
It is said that if two cocks are balzing near each other
you can get them both by shooting one whilst the other is
** slif-sliffing," and then turning your attention to the other. I
can quite believe it, for during his song the cock is so self-
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ON THE AUERHAHNBAL^ 57
absorbed that he not only hears nothing but sees nothing either.
If, however, he sees you in the intervals of balzing, he gets
at first nervous and restless. If you remain absolutely still, he
will, after gazing at you for a bit, think you are only an oddly
shaped piece of landscape, and return to his balz. But a
nervousness will still remain at the back of his mind, and the
quiver in between whiles will tell you that he is a trifle
alarmed and may be off at any moment. I need hardly say
that if, during the scrutiny, you wink your eye or change the
expression of your face, the cock will vanish long before you
can get your gun up. Therefore keep your face modestly
cast down, and, as regards your gun, hold it pointing at the
bird, or he may see the glint of the rising sun on the barrels.
* * * j;: :;:
I do not know whether I have succeeded in conveying to
the reader any idea of the charm of the sport I have endeavoured
to describe. I can only sa}', speaking for myself, that after
my first stalk I was quivering from head to foot with intense
feeling, and was sacrilegious enough to express the opinion that
it was a much more exciting sport than deerstalking.
^,
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THE OLD MODE AND THE NEW— A NEW ZEALAND WHEEL CART
ROUND THE WORLD IN A MOTOR CAR
BY KATE d'ESTERRE-HUGHES
AuTOMOHiLiSM ! The word almost inspires awe as in imagination
one travels through the ages and sees the **car" developing. First
of all comes to mind the chariot of the Egyptians-^the huge, not
ungainly vehicle that was the pride of some rich noble; and so
through all sorts of wheeled vehicles we come to the motor of
to-day.
Not so long ago George Stephenson developed the **auto'* idea
and brought out one of the wonders of all time — the locomotive.
But a locomotive can only go where first its rails have been laid,
and to the unconquerable energy of man this inflexibility of move-
ment was only another incentive to further progress.
In Cugnot's dreams he seemed to be able to travel with light-
ning speed over the world, and his imagination builded for him a
fairy car. ** Thoughts are things," so say the wise, and imagination
after all is but the faculty of foreseeing, and so clothing with thought
what must some day be formed in the material world. Out o(
Cugnot's imagination then was born, in 1769, the first of all vehicles
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ROUND THE WORLD IN A MOTOR CAR 59
to move by its own power on land — the beginning of the latter-day
development of that which in this twentieth century is still young,
" Automobilism."
To the student, and even to the casual reader, as yet it means
but a few names. These are veritable landmarks indeed amid an
ocean of technicalities. One hears of ** engines " and ** carburettors,"
of "clutches," "ignition," and "differentials," but they are the
A B C's of the book of automobilism, and for interest one hurries on
to the story of which such words form the alphabet.
"Cherchez toujours lafemme," say the French, and the history
MR. GLIDDON AND THE KING OF THE FIJI ISLANDS
of the automobile movement is not without its women. Perhaps one
who could recount the most entertaining of car experiences would
be Mrs. Charles Gliddon, an indefatigable world-explorer, who, in
1903, accompanied her husband in a 16 h.p. Napier to the frozen
North. The motorists started in Sweden, and the journey to the
Arctic circle was one long, triumphant procession. Sweden can
boast of many telephones, and these were used to such good purpose
that long before a town was reached cyclists were waiting to greet
the autoists of whose wondrous drive they had heard by means of
the " phone." After welcoming the Gliddons these ardent wheelmen
turned back to notify their townsfolk that the car was on the way.
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6o THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Great was their astonishment and dismay when they found that the
car, and not themselves, was to be first at the rendezvous, where
the inhabitants of the surrounding country enthusiastically received
the travellers with much shouting and ringing of bells.
A rather amusing and withal instructive incident occurred in
a diminutive village in the north of Sweden. The tyres — which
were especially large — attracted considerable attention, and one old
man, who had been fondling them for some time, turned at last to
Mrs. Gliddon, saying, ** I am seventy-six years old, and hardly now
believe that such a thing can be possible, that I should be alive to
A FIJIAN ROAD
see a wagon that goes by itself without horses and with such wheels !
This is the most wonderful thing that I have ever seen."
The roads in Sweden are not for the comfort-loving, being
mostly narrow and rutty with a wide ditch for a border: in some
places mere gullies do duty, while far north there are only reindeer
tracks. No bridges are found in these northern regions, and the
Napier had to be ferried across several rivers in small flat-bottomed
boats : in two or three cases temporary bridges had even to be built
first from the shore to the boat. Plainly, the motorist who explores
must be prepared to rough it, as did the early settlers in America and
the colonies. Lulea is the wonder spot of the North, for it glories
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ROUND THE WORLD IN A MOTO;?^ ^^^
6i
in the possession of a steam ferry. Miles away the ^^a^vellers h ^
of Lulei; the inhabitants talked of it with glee, and told them th
they should be happy indeed, for at Lulei they Wou/d have the
chance of crossing a river on a steam ferry !
Intelligent curiosity is well, but at times it is somewhat embar-
rassing. The people in these country villages did not seem able to
realise that motorists were, after all, of the human race, but came
and looked at them with ill-concealed amazement, some even being
venturesome enough to climb up and peep into the hotel windows,
until at last Mrs. Gliddon declares she was really obliged to look
ADI CAKAHAN, THE FIJIAN PRINCESS — MRS. GLIDDON AND MRS. MACDONALD
ALSO IN THE CAR
into her mirror to see if she were truly the same woman who once
upon a time had started from America.
After their objective — the magic circle — had been crossed and
Mr. and Mrs. Gliddon had bidden good-bye to the land of the sad-
faced Laps and sturdy Finns, they set to work to plan a novel motor
trip round the world.
In 1904 they again started from Boston, on a Napier still, but
this time one of somewhat more power. From Minneapolis to
Vancouver, a distance of some 1,800 miles, they travelled on the
railway — in their own car, be it always understood — and averaged
the thrilling speed of a mile a minute.
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62 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
From Canada to Hawaii, Fiji, New Zealand, and thence to
Tasmania, Australia, Java, Malay, London, and New York, is a
round-the-world tour which must have been productive of many
noteworthy an experience.
The roads of Java excited Mrs. GHddon's admiration. Every-
one goes bare-footed, and it is considered a sacred duty to remove
bits of glass or rough stone from the public way — thus for the
motorist it is a veritable paradise. Java, indeed, pleased Mrs.
Gliddon immensely. It is, she says, the country she would best
A TOWN CLOCK IN ONE OF THE FIJIAN ISLANDS
like to re- visit. The Dutch have not yet attempted to educate the
natives beyond work, and the people are all very respectful to the
whites, removing their hats or crouching to the ground when these
pass. The Javanese are not frightened of the Dutch rule, but
respect it, and their deference to all Europeans is really a mark of
reverence for their own rulers.
Mrs. Gliddon was especially interested to see how the women
are beginning to regard a woman's affairs from a European stand-
point. The impression the Javanese give a visitor is that of happi*
ness. Some, of course, are wealthy, but the majority of the
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ROUND THE WORLD IN A MOTOR CAR 63
population is composed of just the working people of the country,
and they seem perfectly satisfied with their life. What impresses
the stranger, too, is the mass of humanity everywhere. '* We
drove," says Mrs. Gliddon, ** hundreds of miles on end. There
never was a spot two hundred yards in extent where we could escape
people. There was no loneliness anywhere. Sometimes I thought,
' Surely, now we're coming to a place without people ! ' But no ; as
the car approached, literally thousands of black heads sprang up
from the rice fields on either side of the road."
ANOTHER FIJIAN ROAD
Java is a beautiful country, though so cultivated that one looks
longingly for an oasis that has not been touched ; but there is not a
spot that man has not turned into a garden, and the place is so
teeming with people that it seems to be always one entire fete.
There is here a great deal of the red-tape rule. One must first
obtain permission to enter the country from the Governor-General ;
next, under the instructions of the Resident, the Chief Engineer of
Railways inspects the car; and then, after having paid a deposit of
about £30 to the Customs, one can procure from the Post Office
Department a permit to remain in the country six months. The
Dutch, too, are exceedingly watchful, and will not allow anyone who
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64 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
might cause trouble with the natives to enter the country. This
care is, however, not to be wondered at, when one considers that
they have charge of an enormous uneducated population of some-
thing over thirty-five millions.
The people in the towns had seen motors before the appearance
of the Gliddons ; but even in the country places, where they were
unknown, no one seemed to be frightened, most of the inhabitants
contenting themselves with staring in open-eyed wonderment as
what must have been to them almost a miracle passed by.
In Fiji the natives were delighted with the car, none of them
having had the faintest idea of what it would look like. The King
A HOTEL IN NEW ZEALAND
himself had never seen one except on paper. His first question to
Mr. Gliddon was, however, " Will it go sixty miles an hour? " It
seems that he appreciates speed. The people screeched themselves
wild with joy over it, and named it "The Father of all Devils, "The
Boat of the Land," and " The God of Fire." Every two or three
days they seemed to be ready with a new name — never feeling quite
satisfied with the last. They all wanted to ride in the car, and even
offered as much as a shilling to pay for this privilege. The mystery
of its motive power appealed strongly to them. They would lie
down and look underneath for a long time without moving to see if
they could find out what made it go. Whenever the car was
stopped immense crowds would gather round, and when it started
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A NEW ZEALAND WAGON
AUSTRALIAN ABORIGINES
WO. cxxvi VOL xxii.- January 190O
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66 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
would run after it until they were tired out, screaming the whole
time.
The Fijians were frankly attracted by the man who could
manage such a strange animal, and they would stand round
Mr. Gliddon and look at him as if the}^ had never seen a white man
before. Some offered to buy his clothes — thinking, presumably, that
there must be a marvellous power in them. One man asked him
the price of a striped shirt he happened to be wearing. Mr. Gliddon,
AN AUSTRALIAN RAILWAY CROSSING
thinking he meant the cost, turned to Mrs. Gliddon with the query,
** How much? " When she replied, ** Oh, about six shillings," the
native shook his head, and taking four shillings carefully out of his
mouth tendered them. He was distressful for a long time after he
was refused, and for about an hour stood round the car, every few
minutes offering his four shillings.
The Fijians strike the stranger as being a particularly placid
race, whereas one would assume, from the fact of their having been
cannibals but a short time ago, that they wculd still retain more
savage characteristics.
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ROUND THE WORLD IN A MOTOR CAR (^7
Their cannibalism really came to them as a religion. In th^
old days they believed that the gods, having delivered an enemy into
their hands, expected them to devour as well as to kill him; and
this supposed wish they most strictly carried out — eating, in fact,
everything but the tongue. When the car was in Fiji one woman
was in jail for having killed and eaten her grandchild. She was
the only one who for a long time had broken the rule against eating
human flesh, and she said that she had resisted the impulse to eat
it time after time, -but had at last felt that she could go no longer
without tasting a little of her old food.
The Princess of the Fijians is, Mrs. Gliddon found, very beau-
tiful in face, form, and character. She understands English well,
but cannot speak it, or rather will not, as she is of a retiring nature,
and lacks the necessary confidence to embark upon the language.
She is now a firm believer in the motor car.
After escaping from the enthusiasm of the Fijians, the car and
its occupants wended their way to New Zealand. Here they were
lucky enough to be able to run over Ward's Parade — the most
southern road in the world — on the one fine day that, seemingly for
their special benefit, was sandwiched in between many wet ones.
Mrs. Gliddon can say that she has been both farther north and
farther south on an automobile than anyone else in the motoring
world. She has managed to see something of over eight thousand
different cities, villages, and settlements, and now she and her
husband are again on their way round the world by car — this time
keeping near, if not quite within, the torrid zone.
E 2
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STRANGE STORIES OF SPORT
XL— MR. BURKINGTON'S BEAGLES
BY FRANK SAVILE
Mk. Phineas Burkington wore a frown of extreme dissatisfaction
on his fat and somewhat foolish face. He gnawed his short sandy
moustache and poked the fire with unnecessary fierceness. It wasn't
his own fire, and the fact that he poked it showed extreme tension
of mind. For he was quoted as a pattern of politeness by many
ladies who owned marriageable daughters, and he must surely have
been aware of the adage which permits such familiarity in a house
where you have been welcomed for seven consecutive years, but
under no other circumstances.
But his companion and host, Mr. Connor O'Connor, showed
no signs of resentment. His acquaintance with his guest had not,
indeed, endured for the period prescribed — not even for as many
weeks — but his respect for the young man, and for his shekels,
was limitless. He was prepared to endure much at the hands of
the sole proprietor of Burkington's Boot Beautifier, a concern which
employed its thousands and had made its owner one of the most
prominent men in all Ireland. Mr. O'Connor, in fact, viewed the
young millionaire through very rose-tinted glasses — imaginative
lenses which swelled his financial virtues to the exclusion of any
small defects of face or form. In Moyle and the surrounding district
he posed as Mr. Burkington's social godfather. Many of his
neighbours accused him of hankering after a closer connection.
He looked at the frowning face and the fiercely-brandished
poker, and spoke smoothly.
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MR. BURKINGTON'S BEAGLES Cg
"Ah now, Phineas," he pleaded, "don't be after disturbing"
yourself."
** I do disturb myself," retorted Mr. Burkington, defiantly. "It
is the most disturbing thing that has ever happened to me. After
all your encouragements to be refused with — with ignominy. She
said she'd as soon marry Flitty Boyle, the travelling knacker ! "
The ghost of a smile dinted old O'Connor's lips and fled unseen
— of Mr. Burkington.
" 'Tis but her wild way of speakin' — the unbridled filly that she
is," declared the father of the lady under discussion. ** For a penny
I'd lend her a slap — the colleen ; but as likely as may be she'd
return it, and 'tis no small fist she has. Take time, me bhoy, take
time ! "
** My patience has its bounds," remarked the young man,
importantly.
"Of course it has," said the old man, suavely; "but you're a
terror for resolution — many's the time I've marked that in your
eye. You'd not be allowing yourself to be bested by a shlip of a
girl ? "
Mr. Burkington's features relaxed.
" If I had the rights of a husband I have no doubt I could —
er — tame her," he allowed. " At present I'm at a disadvantage."
Mr. O'Connor remembered that he himself had possessed the
rights of a father for twenty-one years and some months. At no
period did he recollect relations existing between himself and his
offspring in which he could be regarded as tamer and she as tamed.
But these reminiscences he kept to himself. He nodded pro-
pitiatingly.
" That's your own self that's talking now ! " he assented, eagerly.
" In six months you'll be riding her on the snaffle."
" I have yet to get her bitted," Mr. Burkington reminded him,
with ponderous joviality.
" And that you'll not do with one finger or two," remarked his
host. " It comes to this — you must be always at her. She has to
get accustomed to the idea of you — you must be there always — slap
in her eye. Once she understands that you're the bhoy for her —
the only one I'll let her live and marry — she'll take you at a
gulp ! ''
Mr. Burkington hardly seemed to relish this metaphor. The
old gentleman, however, failed to notice his frown and continued the
parable.
" Don't let her out of your sight, Phineas," he admonished him.
" Ride with her, run with her, sit with her! Put another meet a
week on to your beagling fixtures and show her sport. Til see that
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70 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
she attends them. SheMl come with all her heart. She adores
running, the light foot that she has.'*
In spite of the stimulating nature of this address the young
man's frown deepened.
** She's fond enough of beagling," he agreed, " but so is that
weedy lad from the barracks — Gaisford. She's always a great deal
more in his company than mine."
** Him ? "sneered the old man, contemptuously. ** The fathom
of pump water ! A sound man like y'rself could throw him up and
catch him in y'r mouth ! Oust him — shouldher him out of the way !
Show spirit, me lad ! Cut in between them ! "
" I have to attend to my hounds," said the Master of
Beagles, with the manner of one who directed the destinies of the
Pytchley or the Quorn.
" You'll have all your married life before you to demonstrate
upon them," argued his would-be father-in-law. " Leave them be
temporarily. Huggins, your whip, will cast and yoick if your
attentions to Nora keep you lagging. For this season you've but
the one hare to hunt, and that's my daughter, bad scran to her
obstinate sowl ! "
Mr. Burkington still looked doubtful. The old gentleman's
parchmenty face took on a flush of exasperation.
** See here — you ! " he cried, wrathfully, " must I in my sixty-
sixth gouty year come on me old shooting pony to show you that's
health and strength and full nourishment how to bridle a filly that's
yours for the asking? She's mine, and now I've said she's yours!
Go you and take her. And if any red-jacketed stick of an Army
captain stands between you, inlo the first ditch with him ! I've
given you the sole right to the girl's company. Keep it ! "
The Army captain's rival nodded.
** There's a good deal in what you say," he admitted. ** You'll
impress this — this arrangement upon Miss Nora? "
** I'll impress that and a birch-rod on her sleek, deceptive
skin ! " declared the irate parent, ** if she so much as squeaks under
your hand. But do you do your own part with the hardest heart
in you. Stick to her — cling to her, me lad, and if by March she
isn't Mrs. Burkington, I'll eat every hare you'll have caught, skin
and teeih ! "
Mr. Burkington's lips relaxed into smiles. As one who seals a
bargain, he suddenly shook his Mentor by the hand.
itt * * * Ht
The little beagles tailed out across country with shrill melodies
of joy which demonstrated that scent lay warm. They had found
early, in an unlikely spot, and after many misgivings on the part of
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MR. BURKINGTON'S BEAGLES
the field that sport would dally. But luck had been with them
The pack had not frittered away its energies in useless ^^^^c^uvrin^s
for a find. A stout old jack hare had sprung up almost under
their noses in a sedgy pasture, and was scudding across the open
towards the distant moorland as straight as a dart. For the first
three fields the hounds had run in view. Now their noses were well
to the ground, but on a scent which — as old Larry Pike, the MoyJe
Hunt earthstopper, was wont to express it — " rose and shtruck thim
in the eyeball."
The field was long and straggling. Tim Huggins, the whip,
pranced gaily at the tail of the hounds, taking the ditches with
springing leaps which none but a born bog-trotter could emulate.
A little behind him came a resolute line of boys, ardent sportsmen
every one, running with breathless jealousy, each with his own pet
theory of a likely line, but each with an inquisitive glint of the eye
towards any neighbour who showed signs of improving on it. Back
of these again ran one or two striplings of slightly maturer years,
panting more than their younger rivals, but wearing down by
degrees into their second wind, and covering the ground with long
and regular strides which spoke of experience as much as ardour.
In an irregular patch followed the main body of the field.
There were several girls among the followers — bright com-
plexioned, grey-eyed daughters of Erin, each with an attendant train
of cavaliers. It was noticeable that of these Miss Nora O'Connor
held the largest court.
A detachment of subalterns and a junior captain or two from
Moyle barracks made up a majority of it, but among these dapper
youths Mr. Burkington's massive form was bulking largely. He ran
doggedly at Miss O'Connor's shoulder, towering over her like a
battleship over a sloop. The military cruisers — to complete the
metaphor — invariably found the wind taken out of their sails if they
attempted to run alongside. Now and again Miss Nora looked up
at him curiously. The Master was displaying the agility of one ot
his own hares. Several times she endeavoured to disembarrass
herself of his proximity, but turn and twist as she would he
invariably kept within armsbreadth of her. He made no remark —
he never tried to emulate the breathless repartees which the young
warriors exchanged — he reserved the powers of his lungs for the
business of running. But he was there.
Suddenly the full chorus from the hounds died to a whimper.
The runners looked up gratefully to recognise a check. The pack
went feathering across a pasture under Tim's able directions, cast-
ing for the line. Miss O'Connor mopped her brow and dropped
into a stroll.
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72 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
** Praise Heaven for thai ! " she ejaculated, piously. She looked
up at Burkington again. ** Won't you be giving them a cast?*'
she inquired.
The young man eyed his pack indifferently.
*' ril not improve on Huggins's line," he answered, and stood
watching the feathering sterns without enthusiasm. He remained
steadfastly at his captivator's side.
She turned and raised her eyebrows ever so slightly at the
young man who had been sharing the duties of escort with Bur-
kington. He stood as near her on the right as her other admirer
did on the left. She had a comically bewildered air as she gazed
at him.
He smiled back. He was a tall, bronzed, supple-looking man
of about eight or nine and twenty, and he and Miss Nora contem-
plated each other with every sign of mutual satisfaction.
**Ah, me! " she deplored suddenly, "they've hit it off— they'll
be running for Hennessy's Flat. I'll not be able to keep the line
any longer. I'll make a cut for the bridge below Shan's Paddock,
and with luck catch up to you there."
** Now — now. Miss Nora ! " objected one of the youngsters,
** with your limbs and talents you've no call to run cunning. And
'tis as likely as the next thing that she'll make another swerve and
evade you and y'r cut entirely."
One of his companions pinched his arm and frowned. A sudden
look of intelligence pervaded the youngster's features. He sidled
off with his friend. ** Sure, I forgot," he apologised under his
breath. ** 'Tis not the hare she'll be after catchin*."
By twos and threes the little crowd took up the running and
followed the disappearing pack. Gaisford stayed where he was.
** Yours is a wise decision. Miss O'Connor," he remarked,
** but there is a good deal of water out in the river meadows below
Shan's. If you'll permit me I'll be your guide in avoiding it. The
old sheep lane will be our way, won't it ? " he added, turning to
Burkington, who still stood doggedly at his elbow.
A frown was creasing the Master's fat face. He hesitated.
** Ay," he said at last, " I'll show it you."
The other two made a simultaneous protest.
**0h, we couldn't possibly take j'ow away," they began; but
their unsolicited guide interrupted grimly.
** Oh, but you could/' he affirmed, resolutely. ** Pm coming.'*
They looked at him blankly — they made several somewhat
incoherent protests. Mr. Burkington answered with no more than
monosyllables or silence, and began to lead the way towards the
sheep lane. They toiled up it at his heels, exchanging glances
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MR. BURKINGTON'S BEAGLES yj^
which pictured wrath, surprise, and i musement, as different points of
view in their companion's conduct suggested themselves. He, on
his part, offered no further explanation of this sudden desertion of
his pack than a still more aggressive proximity to his lady-love.
They had passed out of the lane, crossed the bridge, and
reached the Moyle high road, when Miss O'Connor complained of
weariness. No sign of hounds had rewarded their attempt to cut
in, and without the goad of excitement she explained that her
energies weakened. She looked up hopefully as the sound of
wheels drew attention to a pony-cart which was trotting down
the road.
** Is it you yourself, Flitty Boyle ! " she addressed the driver, a
dark-eyed, clean-shaved youth who touched his hat to her with
great respect. " Would it be within the powers of the good cob
there to give me a lift on the way home ? "
** 'Twud be iverlastin' honour to me poor contrapshun of a car,
miss, if you'll enthrust y'rsilf to me,'' said the man, grinning cheer-
fully. '* Sure, I'll have ivry plisure in life in takin' the whole three
of ye."
Miss O'Connor shook her head hastily.
*' No, no," she dissented. ** I'd not allow any such cruelty to
your little nag. Besides, Mr. Burkington and Captain Gaisford
will be only too glad to be rid of me. They want to find hounds
again."
Gaisford's face showed a trace of astonishment — almost annoy-
ance. Then it suddenly cleared into intelligence. As she passed
close to him to mount upon the step of the car. Miss O'Connor had
covertly pressed a small object — her empty purse, to be explicit —
into his hand.
Mr. Burkington stood with his mouth open, the picture of
indecision. She seated herself and made an impartial farewell to
both with a very pretty smile. Flitty flourished his whip and
brought it down smartly upon the pony's back. The car went off
at a gallop, leaving the two men staring after it with envious eyes.
They turned at last to scan the country for the vanished hunt.
Suddenly Gaisford heard his own name called in distinct but dulcet
tones.
A couple of hundred yards away the car had stopped. Miss
Nora was waving energetically. "I've forgotten my purse '."she
shrilled, and Gaisford made a melodramatic gesture of self-reproach.
** How forgetful of me ! " he cried. ** She gave it me to carry
for fear she should lose it ! "
He darted down the road holding the missing piece of property
conspicuously in his hand. Mr. Burkington sullenly awaited his
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74 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
return. Gaisford held out the purse. Miss Nora took it with a
demure smile of thanks.
"Captain Gaisford/' sl.e remarked, " FHtty here thinks the
pony could manage one more conveniently."
** Without cruelty ? " grinned the Captain, and upon the word
leaped up and perched behind her. Again the whip descended upon
the little nag's flanks.
There was a shout from behind. The Master of Beagles had
broken into a hand gallop and was pursuing frantically down the
road, making a sporting attempt to win a race in which the odds
against him were something like a bank to a button. Gaisford
waved him a cheery hand; but Miss O'Connor, in view of subse-
quent explanations, forebore to look round. The distance increased.
In a little while even the semblance of pursuit was given up.
Mr. Burkington stood panting, a dark blot upon the dusty highway,
while the lovers drove on in pleasant converse with the grinning
Flitty. They were dropped five miles further down the road at the
back of the coverts which fringed the O'Connor demesne.
« « # ♦ «
" It's been worth it," remarked Miss Nora half an hour later,
**but they'll never forgive it me. Father or Phineas — the one or
the other of them — will never let me out of their sight after this."
Gaisford smiled confidently.
" It all comes round to what I've tried to persuade you of a
hundred times, my darling," he said. ** In blunt English, you've
got to elope with me — there's no other way out of it."
"Must I now?" said the girl, with dancing eyes. "It's easy
talked of, but not so easy done. I'll be under the eyes of the pair of
them every hour of the day."
"Just look the situation squarely in the face," urged her lover.
" Do you want to marry Phineas Burkington ? "
"I'd sooner take in washing for my living," said Miss O'Connor,
with great decision.
"And you've no insuperable objections to marrying me? "
" For the moment I can't recall them," allowed Nora. " But
how ? That's the question."
" It's as easy as kissing," said Gaisford, illustrating his remark
with warmth and conviction. " We'll be married in Moyle ps^nsh
church in the light of the open day. Jim Lascelles, the vicar, has
been my pal since schooldays. The barracks are in his parish, so
I'm a parishioner. A special licence and his affection for me are all
the goads he needs, and he'll keep a shut mouth about it till it's
over."'
Miss O'Connor's eyes opened very wide indeed.
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MR. BURKINGTON'S BEAGLES 75
** And how am I going to get to Moyle parish church without a
* Yes ' or a * No ' or a * By your leave ' from my father ? " she asked.
** What will I say at all — * Excuse me, dad, for half an hour; I've
just remembered I've got to run into Moyle to be married to Jack
Gaisford'?"
Gaisford grinned.
** Not quite that," he agreed. ** It's not by leave of your father
at all that you'll get the chance, but by the goodwill of Tim
Huggins."
If the girl had shown amazement before, her emotions on hear-
ing this remark can only be described as stupefaction.
" Tim Huggins — Phineas's whip ? " she cried.
** There's no other Tim Huggins," said Gaisford, ** and he, I'm
glad to say, is my very good friend. He'll arrange it — under my
supervision — so that you'll have no fuss, no trouble, no explanation
of any kind. All you have got to do is to attend next Monday's
meet of the Beagles. It's at Allonby. You'll get a straight run
away to the river — a four-mile point — and very likely without a
check. The hare will cross the river, and there's no bridge."
His lady-love stared at him as if he had gone suddenly daft.
** My dear boy," she deprecated, " are you dreaming or wander-
ing, or what ? "Who are you to 5ay how and where and whence
next Monday's run is going to take place. Have you trained your
private hare and put him in Tim Huggins's bag ? "
'* I'm prophesying," said Gaisford, with a laugh, "but I'm on a
certainty. I had the luck to pick Huggins's youngest out of that
same river when she fell in, in flood time, last March, and her father
would do more than I'm going to ask him to do, out of gratitude.
It's all quite simple. The run will end at the river bank, and the
river will pound the hunt. There's no bridge, as I impressed on
you before."
A sudden gleam of intelligence lit Miss O'Connor's features.
** And no boat ?" she inquired, meditatively.
Gaisford nodded.
*' One," he said. ** Mine."
*****
A strange procession was passing across the fields from Allonby
towards the marshland and the river in the small hours of Monday
morning. Huggins led by a string an object which seemed to have
all the agility of a grasshopper and the elasticity of an indiarubber
ball. Flitty Boyle, walking a yard or two to the rear, stirred up the
unwilling captive whenever it substituted passive resistance for
active, admonishing it with an ash rod or the toe of his dilapidated
boot as circumstances seemed to advise. The deep dusk, which is
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76 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
deepest just before dawn, shrouded both escort and prisoner, and
a passer-by, if there had been one at that hour, would have been
puzzled to discover the details of what was toward. As a matter of
fact it was an extremely robust jack hare which the whip was
tugging by a cord wound round the unfortunate animal's neck and
withers, and which Flitty goaded from behind.
"Ah, get along wid ye — get along!'* expostulated Flitty,
thrusting at the hare as it turned a complete somersault after an
energetic effort to tie its tether into a true-lover's knot. " 'Tis
possessed the cratur is — as full of its fal-las as a — a gymnasium !
What for will ye not walk demurely wid two gintlemin that's
expandin* wid nothin' but kindness towards ye? "
" 'Tis poor atin' he'll be," said Tim, tugging remorselessly at
the cord. ** His blood will be that fevered and his muscle that
drawn ! I'll let him loose to recover himself when the line's once
laid. There won't be enough sound mate on him to feed a chickun !
Howiver — he's spreadin' the scent like a water cart."
'* He is so," agreed his colleague. ** 'Tis time we were thinkin'
of the first check. We've come a full mile, or the best part of
two."
Tim nodded. With a turn of the wrist he suddenly jerked the
animal towards him and grasped it in his arms. Holding it tight
he walked solemnly across the pasture for a hundred yards or more
before he released it.
" That'll give us all a breather," he remarked, as he set it down
again. ** I'll not make me cast this way till I see Miss Nora gettin'
her own breath back again. Come you now! We'll give them a
touch of deep goin' in Packy McKeough's potato patch. Be this
and be that ! 'tis the most artistic run they'll be havin' laid out be
a master hand, though 'tis mesilf that declares it ! "
From these fragments of conversation it will be seen that
Gaisford's plan was in full process of foundation. Mr. Huggins's
gratitude had not been worked on in vain. He and his bosom
friend the knacker were leading a line across country for the subse-
quent benefit of the beagles, and were using no half measures to
ensure success to their undertaking. By slow and dogged degrees
the procession proceeded upon its way, the hare's terror gradually
fading into apathy, and its acrobatic performances deteriorating
sadly in its fatigue. Other artistically placed checks were
engineered, and the hare, instead of resisting, lay inert in Tim's
arms, worn with its emotions. Pasture, plough, and moorland
were each in turn insinuated deftly into the trail, till at last men
and hare brought their arduous duties to a close upon the banks of
the Lycke, the well-known salmon-infested river, which has given
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MR. BURKINGT0N*S BEAGLES 'jj
the town of Moyle more importance in the eyes of the outside world
than its citizens altogether appreciate. It was in full spate, foaming
a fathom deep between its clay banks, its waters touching pollards
and thickets which were generally far back from its encroachments.
The two men heaved a sigh of relief as they sank upon con-
venient boulders and instinctively fingered in their vest pockets for
pipes. The hare panted in a comatose state at their feet. For a
few minutes they smoked restfully without moving or speaking.
Then Flitty rose. He beckoned his companion forward.
The two sidled along the bank for a few yards till they reached
a clump of brambles at the water's edge. Within its recesses lay
a coracle, the tiny wicker skiff which the professional fishers use.
" There 'tis,'* said Flitty, tersely ; ** and do you, Tim Huggins,
disthract ivrybody's attintions from prying in this direction by any
manes short of assassinatin' thim. When once the captin*s got her
launched, and Miss Nora in it — why thin, let thim swim who will."
** And they'll not be many," said Mr. Huggins, significantly, as
he strolled back to his captive and resumed charge of the cord which
he had tied to a tree. '* The water's as cold as Miss Nora's silf
when Phineas is passagin' about her, and you'll not find much that's
colder. I'll carry this unfortunit baste a furlong down the bank and
let it deliver itsilf where it will. Sure it's had its Purgathory, the
cratur ; let it make its own Paradise."
« « * 41 4»
The Allonby meet had proved an early success. The usual tuft-
flicking and bush-punching which precedes a run from a moorland
find had been short enough. Huggins, as he made a wide beat to
circle the gorse which edged the moor, was suddenly heard to holloa
loudly ; the next instant his battered cap was whirled aloft upon his
stick, while the whimper of the hounds swelled from doubt into full-
throated certainty. Young men and maidens drew their elbows
down to their sides and set their caps firmly upon their heads. At
a swinging trot the field followed the whip, who was already
bounding over a dyke at the far side of an arable enclosure.
The Master did not lead his field. If the previous week he had
closely accompanied Miss O'Connor, on this present occasion he
could only be described as shadowing her. Step by step he dogged
her twinkling heels, turning as she turned, slowing as she slowed,
sprinting as she sprinted. And in the background, ** unstiffening
his limbs and easing the cob's wind," as he expressed it, trotted
Mr. Connor O'Connor on horseback, watching his daughter with
grim determination. The young lady's self-appointed directors had
evidently been more than a little alarmed by the previous week's
escapade, and were taking no chances. Each of them had addressed
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78 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
the blackest of black looks to the imperturbable Gaisford when be
and half a dozen of his colleagues had turned up in due course from
barracks.
The captain had shown no signs of being impressed by the want
of cordiality extended to him. He had wished the Master and his
desired father-in-law good morning with unabashed good humour,
and had offered Miss Nora a bow and a smile which she very natu-
rally acknowledged. But he had not pressed into her company. In-
deed, the find had come so quick upon the meet that the usual few
minutes* dalliance, which as a rule accompanies all such encounters
of young men and maidens, had been lacking. Everybody jostled
forward at best pace — one which left little enough breath for
compliments.
The well-manufactureJ check came in its appointed place. Miss
0*Connor threw herself down upon a dyke and fanned herself
violently, expressing her conviction that one more minute of such
going would have seen her a purple-visaged corpse. Mr. O'Con-
nor *s cob whistled like a blackbird. Mr. Burkington paced up and
down before his charmer pantingly; want of wind, ho^^ever, not
depriving him of one wrinkle of his aspect of determination. Hug-
gins seemed to make his casts somewhat perfunctorily, casting an
eye at the group as if he waited more for the convenience of his field
than to the mere chance of the hour. As Miss Nora stood up, and
found breath enough to offer a remark to her nearest neighbour,
Huggins strode away with an air of satisfaction. The next minute
his holloa apprised them that the scent had been taken up in Mc-
Keough's potato patch. With feet that gradually assumed elephan-
tine proportions as the heavy soil clung to them, the runners
proceeded upon their way.
About an hour had gone by. There had been another check or
two. Nearly four miles had been covered. Suddenly Gaisford
supplied a note of tragedy to dilute the morning's cheerfulness.
Crossing a dyke he stumbled, and fell with his foot doubled under
him. There were many offers of assistance, but none from Messrs.
Burkington or O'Connor, when it seemed that the gallant captain
had slightly sprained his ankle. Large grins, indeed, suffused these
gentlemen's faces, and Miss Nora's father relentlessly prevented her
stopping to offer more sympathy than could be compressed into
three words and shouted from a distance. Doggedly he and Bur-
kington urged her on. Not that the sufferer permitted anyone to
lose sport by staying with him. The hurt was a mere nothing, he
declared, and he could limp after them quite easily and take up
running again when the first bruised stiffness had gone out of the
joint.
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MR. BURKINGTON'S BEAGLES 79
And so the whole field passed on. Gaisford watched them out
of sight round a convenient spinney and then took to his heels and
sprinted across country, following a course parallel to the one they
had taken. As a recovery, this incident came positively near to the
miraculous. As a side light on the deceits practised by the military
profession it has other aspects.
Meanwhile the field had come full stop upon the brim of the
foaming Lycke, gazing blankly at its turbid floods. A rich, full-
brogued voice hailed them from the opposite side. Flitty Boyle
was to be seen waving an excited hand from the seat of his car.
" 'Tis right over, swimmin* like an allygaytar, the baste came ! "
he declared. *' He's gone down the Moyle road, drippin' and layin'
the dust like a sprinklin' cart ! "
The breathless hunt looked disconsolately at him. There was
no bridge within five miles.
'* Where will we find a boat, Flitty ? " cried the whip. The
knacker stood up and pointed eagerly down the river to the
right.
"There should be one at Duveen's house, Mr. Burkington,
y*r honnour, sorr. If Mr. O'Connor wud take it upon him to give a
canter down and see, *twud perhaps save the bulk of you a useless
matter of manoeuvring."
Old O'Connor looked round. Gaisford had disappeared and
Mr. Burkington still maintained his rigid proximity to Miss Nora.
He gave a nod and flicked his nag. In another minute he was out
of sight.
Muggins was kneeling twenty or thirty yards away, examining
one of the hounds which he held upon its back between his knees.
He called to the Master.
** Wud you come here, sorr ? I mislike the look of Fanciful's
foot. She's limpin' sadly."
Burkington made an impulsive step forward, and then hesitated.
Nora O'Connor held her breath.
He stared round him. Gaisford was not in sight and the girl
was standing beside the water, idly watching the eddies. He stepped
quickly towards Tim and stooped over the hound.
Nora edged a pace or two up stream. Burkington's broad back
was towards her, and his gaze fixed upon the pad between his fingers.
Silentl}', quickly she glided behind an intervening bush and fled
through the pollards to the left.
A minute later Burkington dropped the dog's limb, expressing
the opinion that nothing ailed it except the application of his whip's
too easily roused misgivings. Something splashed on the surface of
the stream.
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8o THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
A coracle had shot out from the bushes on the left, skimming
across the ripples towards the opposite shore,
Burkington stared at it in incredulous wrath.
Whatever injury Gaisford might have experienced to his foot,
his arms were certainly in the best of trim. He was working the
paddles most lustily. Nora O'Connor, kneeling and facing him, was
wearing a smile of demure satisfaction.
Burkington lifted his arm and shook his fist at them.
** Come back ! " he demanded, imperiously. "Come back this
very instant ! "
Miss Nora raised her eyebrows.
** There's no room for more than two at a time, Mr. Burkington,"
she answered, with mild surprise; "but if you'll put hounds to me
ril get them on the line. Make them swim it."
Burkington danced with rage.
''You'll be sorry for this, you — you hussey ! " he cried, as the
coracle grounded against the far bank. " Your father will take
satisfaction from you if he has to do it with a stick ! "
Miss O'Connor shrugged her shoulders.
" I think you hardly know what you're saying," she deprecated,
and turned to Flitty, who beamed upon her graciously.
** If you're on the way to Moyle, perhaps you'd give me a cast
so far in your trap ? " she asked.
Flitty gave a duck and a smirk.
•*With ivry plisure in life, miss," said he. "Give me y'r hand
an' I'll drag ye up."
He suited the action to the word.
Gaisford looked solemnly at his watch.
*' Sorry I've no time to bring the boat to ferry the lot of you,"
he informed the grinning field. " Tve an important engagement in
Moyle myself."
Burkington poured forth a flood of imprecation. ** You — you
scoundrel ! " he roared. " I'll have the law of you— I'll— I'll "
His rage made him inarticulate. He spluttered incoherently.
Gaisford nodded.
*' You'll tell me all about it next time," he answered, genially.
" Right away, Flitty ! "
He skipped up and occupied the same seat which he had used
to such advantage the week before. The whip fell upon the pony's
back. Flitty, his trap, and his friends flew off down the road in a
cloud of dust. As they disappeared round a distant corner Miss
O'Connor's handkerchief was seen to flutter over her shoulder in
ironical farewell.
For an instant Burkington made a motion as if he would throw
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MR. BURKINGTON'S BEAGLES
8i
off his coat. He looked at the surging ripples and hesitated. He
was a poor swimmer at the best of times, and what sort of pursuit
he could make upon his own feet with his clothes sogging full of
water, even if he gained the opposite side in safety, was hard to tell.
He relinquished his notion, and instead began to run furiously
in the direction which Mr. O'Connor had taken five minutes before.
With the sporting instinct that the end of this run, at any rate,
should not escape them, the field followed valiantly.
Half an hour later Mr. O'Connor turned in great amazement
from superintending a temporary caulk of Pat Duveen*s very leaky
punt, to see the whole hunt — minus his daughter — sweep into the
boatyard and confront him.
It was another five minutes before he gathered the true inward-
ness of the situation, so rabid were Phineas*s denunciations. But
when he understood the many explanations which everybody seemed
anxious to supply, he fairly emulated the Master of Beagles' fury.
He seized upon tow and mallet and hammered and caulked like one
possessed. His anathemas were brilliantly inventive ; his energy
sublime.
In spite of both another twenty minutes went by before the
most reckless adventurer present suggested that a launch was
possible, and even then Mr. Burkington eyed the gaping seams
askance. But the old gentleman was beyond the restraints of mere
prudence. He hustled his cob and his would-be son-in-law aboard.
Pat Duveen took the pole, and leaned forward to shove off.
Suddenly he paused, and, like all the others present, turned his eyes
in the direction of the town. A sort of incredulous hush fell upon
the assembly. It was followed by an instinctive shout of amaze-
ment, of glee, and of unrestrained laughter.
The wind was fair from Moyle, and gleefully upon the gusts rang
out the peal of wedding bells !
HO. cxxvi. VOL. xxiu— January 1906
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A DAY IN OUR ELK FOREST
BY SIR HENRY SETON-KARR, C.M.G., M.P.
Having made a bad start at Langletet, we determined to go up to
the hut and the soeter. By Langletet I mean Johan Bergan's house,
which is on the west bank of the Gula River, and a mile or so distant
from Langletet railway station. Beyond a saw-mill and a farmhouse
or two I have never yet discovered any approach to a town, or even a
village, at Langletet. The post-office is at the station, and there is
not even a grocery store or a blacksmith's shop in the neighbour-
hood. Johan's house, reached by ferry over the river in the usual
leaky Norwegian boat, is supposed to be the centre of our elk
forest. But it takes a young and very active man adequately to
hunt from that centre even the smaller half of the 100,000 acres or
so of pine-forest, birch-scrub, and fjeld which we rent from the
Norwegian Government, and on which we have a right to kill a
stated number of elk.
We had been at Johan's house two days, and so far had done
nothing. The first was an ideal day for driving the hills above
Langletet, fine and warm, with the lightest of easterly breezes (all
the bad weather here comes from north and west), the right
direction for this particular drive. But a perverse fate impelled us
instead to hunt with the men and dogs in leash, my son M. in Laerdal,
I to the south, and neither of us got a shot. M. and Peder found
the tracks of a good bull, and followed him for miles to and fro
through thick pine-woods, seeking in vain for a sight of the great
black hairy side at which to shoot. Occasionally they were close
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A DAY IN OUR ELK FOREST g^
to him, but the bull was never seen. Ivor and I wandered through
miles of forest on the south end, jumped a cow, but saw no bull.
Next day we drove the Langletet woods, and of course the
wind had changed to a wrong airt. But the drive had been
arranged overnight, the men secured, and with insular obstinacy we
determined to carry it out. The men swept some miles of our
thickest woods round the precipitous shoulder of a hill to the edge
of the Laerdal Canyon, where the rifles sat. An open marsh, a
mile or so long, protected our left, and it was commonly supposed
that elk did not cross the Laerdal Canyon on the right at this point,
though I have my doubts on the subject. Men can, with infinite
DP THE GULA VALLEY
labour, slide down one side of the canyon, wade the stream at the
bottom, and clamber on all fours up the other side, hanging on to
trees and rocks in the process ; and I have yet to find the ground in
Norway where a man can go (even the long-legged active Johan)
and an elk cannot, if pushed to it. Anyway, the drive was an
absolute failure, though two years ago I had killed a 48-inch head in
this same drive. M. and I sat on the side of the wind and put Ivor
back and down in the canyon, but all to no purpose. Not an elk
was seen. It was unthinkable that there were no good bulls in
the drive. There is always a good bull somewhere on this steep
and thickly wooded ridge. But he had obviously declined even
F 2
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84 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
to cross the wind for any distance. My experience is that it is
as difficult to drive an elk as it is to hunt a fox for any distance
otherwhere than down-wind. It is the old woodland instinct,
inherited by the elk from generations of wolf-hunted ancestors,
never to give your pursuers a chance of getting your wind. Some
cows broke back, of course, and after lunch, going casually up
the Laerdal Valley, on a round way home, we unexpectedly
jumped a young bull, who nearly galloped over us while the men
were carrying our rifles. We did not want his head, of course :
it was too small. But the men wanted meat, and there was no
doubt that that particular bull, at that particular moment, might
have got hurt but for the fact that the men had our rifles.
So, as I say, things having gone somewhat agley, we deter-
mined next day to go further afield, I to the hut, and M. to
the soeter. The hut and the soeter are eight miles apart, and a
rifle domiciled at each can stalk and hunt ground inaccessible to
ordinary mortals (who want to sleep at home at night in comfort)
from Langletet.
M. took John the chef with him, and Peder the hunter,
with his dog Passup. Also Johan and Ole with two horses
carrying luggage and stores. Quite a retinue, in fact. Of his
visit to the soeter it is sufficient here to chronicle that he killed
his first bull-elk on the following day, a fair-sized beast enough :
also saw three good bulls the next day, none of which he got ;
and finally, two days after, followed for many hours and miles a
fine bull carrying a 42-inch 19-point head, which he eventually ran
into and killed late in the evening on his way home to Langletet.
The point of this story, however, is to relate the events of
one particular day with which Ivor, myself, and another big
bull-elk are mainly concerned.
I also had a modest retinue with me at the hut — to wit, Ivor
and his dog Rover, the fair-haired Carrie as chef-de-cuisine, and
sundry horses and men for the luggage. On the way up to the
hut Ivor and I managed very successfully to give our wind to a
big bull, whom we presently saw in the far distance down the
valley, making record time — accompanied by his mistress, an
exceedingly active young cow — for the thickest woods in Laerdal
Canyon. The annoying part of it was that Carrie, an hour
ahead of us, had walked past this very bull on the way to the
hut, watched him with interest as he gazed upon her within
eighty yards or so, had admired his horns and great bulk, and
then told us all about him afterwards. The bull evidently
knew a thing or two. ** Han stor og saa lang paa mig " (" He stood
and looked long at me "), said Carrie to us that evening. As I
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A DAY IN OUR ELK FOREST 85
looked at the fair young face of the Norwegian lassie, glowing
with health and innocence, the conduct of the bull in question
appeared to me most natural, and only what one would have
expected. The bull had scorned to run away from a petticoat,
but as a matter of caution, I suppose, had removed himself and
party, namely, his cow and her calf, to a thick wood adjoining,
under the shoulder of the fjeld, where the wind blew all ways.
There he subsequently became aware of the approach of Ivor,
Rover, and myself, before we saw him, and promptly left the
neighbourhood, without giving us the chance of a shot.
Next morning Ivor came hurriedly into my bedroom at 7 a.m.
to say he saw elk. I went out in my pyjamas, and from the
NINETEEN-POINTER
back door of the hut two cow-elk were plainly visible grazing j|
on the open fjeld, just above the birch-wood, not 500 yards If
away, across a thickly-wooded valley. A careful examination I
through my glasses showed one of the cows to be a very large, ?
obviously old, and even dissipated-looking elk. I went to bed J
again, much to Ivor's disgust, and later on had a blank day in *
the forest so far as shootable bulls were concerned. **(
That evening our party was reinforced by the active Johan, |i
who brought news of M.'s first bull. Next morning I was again
awakened by the men to look at the same two cow-elk grazing H
If
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86 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
in the same spot. These elk had evidently spent the previous
day in the thick birch-wood adjoining.
Then I succumbed to the insidious temptation to kill that
old cow, instigated thereto by Johan and Ivor. I had hitherto
sternly declined to molest cow-elk. But the case in favour of now
breaking this rule was put thus by our local casuists :
The forest was full of old cow-elk, too many in fact, and they
wanted thinning down. This particular cow was obviously far too
old ever to have another calf, and was therefore a mere cumberer of
the ground. She was, moreover, large and fat, her meat was most
desirable, and nothing could be more handy for the larder than to
kill her close to the hut. On the other hand, if spared, she would
TWO GOOD ELK-DOGS
merely grow older and more useless every year. It was therefore
much better to kill her than a young bull, for example, who, if spared,
would naturally grow into a larger bull.
As I had been roused out of bed two mornings in succession to
look at the same old cow, and felt inclined for some early morning
exercise, the men's logic prevailed. I put on shooting boots and
coat, seized my rifle, slid down into the thick woods below the hut,
and crawled up the far side of the valley. A gallery consisting of
Carrie, Ivor, Johan, and Ole of the baggage train, watched the whole
proceeding from the door of the hut. Of course the two elk had
lain down in the birch-scrub while I was crossing the valley ; equally
of course I scared them coming up the hill; but they rashly stood
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A DAY IN OUR ELK FOREST 87
for a few moments on the sky-line, gave me opportunity for a quick
shoulder-shot at 150 yards before they disappeared, and a chorus of
yells from the gallery informed me of the fact that the old cow had
fallen dead a hundred yards further on, shot through the heart. So
I returned to bath and breakfast while the men butchered the elk.
But this was merely the opening episode of what proved for
me a red-letter day in our forest. I had not yet had a shot at a
good bull this season, and the morning and early afternoon were
spent in two small drives by Ivor on the other side of the valley, I
vainly hoping to intercept any bull he might perchance move. The
^^-eather was too calm and still for successful hunting with the dog
in the thick forest. The second of the two drives terminated in good
LUNCH IN THB FOREST
news. Ivor returned hastily, before half his round was completed,
to say he had seen a big bull in the birch-wood on the higher fjeld.
Here, then, was the chance for the quiet stalk that I had long been
hoping for. So far we had not seen any good bull out of the thick
pine-woods.
Half an hour later I was lying on a ridge with Ivor spying the
birch-scrub where last he had seen the bull. Presently, yes, there
was an elk moving in a patch of scrub half a mile away. Between |
him and us was a comparatively open valley running down from the I
high fjeld. The only way to get across unseen was to ascend the ^
back of the ridge on which we were lying. I left Ivor,[and proceeded
t
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88 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
to undertake the stalk alone, the light breeze then blowing up the
valley. As I ascended the ridge — confident, if all went well, of
a fairly easy stalk — suddenly the wind changed, and blew down from
the fjeld. This altered the whole situation. I could not now
ascend and come on to the bull from above and behind. He would
inevitably get my wind. I crawled to the ridge and looked over.
Presently, through my glass, I saw the bull and a cow come out of
the patch of scrub and move slowly along the face of the hill towards
the thicker woods beyond. Then for the first time I saw him well.
What a fine brute he was, and what a grand head he carried ! My
cow of the morning was a mere calf in comparison to his lordly bulk.
UP THE GULA TO THE ELK FOREST
and his wide-spread shovel horns formed a trophy I most ardently
desired.
There was nothing for it but a prolonged crawl over the sky-line
through a slight hollow in the ridge and then downhill, with a single
birch-tree between the elk and myself. At length, what a relief it
was to stand upright in the hollow below, in the semblance of a man
and not of a reptile ! The bull was restless and moving onwards all
the time. His companion, a young and apparently frivolous cow,
fed on continuously without thought of danger. But her lord and
master was evidently love-sick and uneasy, and kept hustling her
along. I proceeded across the hollow, sheltered by a friendly ridge,
bent and panting, over a wide marsh, round a friendly shoulder, and.
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A DAY IN OUK ELK FOREST 8g
tu my disappointment, saw the bull was still moving towards the
shelter of the thick forest, and was now a long shot away from a ridg'e
200 yards ahead, whence I hoped to take the shot. I could just see
the bull's horns in some birch-scrub 200 yards beyond the ridge in
question. It was a case of now or never: of a rapid forward move
to get along shot, or perchance to lose my opportunity. For the
evening was drawing on, and if once the bull reached the thick
woods a quiet shot was unlikely.
I bent double and covered the 200 yards to the ridge as quickly
as quiet progress would allow, and crawled up the slope to find that
the bull had gone on another 100 yards, had come out of the birch-
scrub, and was gazing back in my direction. Half-way up the slope
I drew a bead on his broad shoulder, now over 300 yards away. The
position was bad and I could not align my rifle as I wished. Another
TAKING HOME THE BULL
crawl of five yards, my heart in my mouth. On the summit of the
ridge I got the position I wanted, drew a full bead right on the top of
his back — the shot was uphill as well as long in distance — and pressed
the trigger. As the smoke of my 500 black-powder Express cleared
away I saw the bull galloping madly down the hill. He vanished &
round the corner and disappeared in the birch-scrub as I gave him M
a snapshot from my second barrel. Then all was still. Ivor, on .>
the skyline half a mile away, had no doubt seen the shot, and possibly *
the sequel. P
So I followed on the tracks of the bull, nervously afraid of the k
result. The chances of the shot were great. I could easily have («
miscalculated the distance and fired under or over. Also the slightest
deviation to right or left might mean a miss or a slight wound and a |^|
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90 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
long, and possibly vain, stern chase. Before I had reached the bull's
tracks, the cow appeared on the skyline above, evidently looking for
her lord and master. This looked promising for a kill. Then, to
my surprise, came cheery yells from my rear. I faintly distinguished
something like ** good jagt '* (good hunting). Ivor was not a demon-
strative person, and he was sober when I left him. So I waited for
his arrival and his tale, for I guessed he had seen the bull fall.
Presently he arrived within earshot, told me what he had seen,
and we went on some 400 yards to find the great bull, carrying a
44-inch 13-point head of great strength and beauty, lying stone
dead on the hillside, shot just in front of the heart.
This is what Ivor had seen : The bull had galloped madly for-
ward through the birch-scrub for two or three hundred yards ; had
then reared up on his hind legs and savagely attacked a solitary
birch tree, smashing it to pieces with his hoofs ; had continued to
rear up till he nearly fell over backward ; had recovered himself
and galloped another hundred yards or so, and then suddenly run
round in a circle and fallen stone dead. He was one of the largest
bulls, in body, I have ever killed. Ivor and I could not turn him
over, and it took three horses and four men to bring him home on a
sleigh next day.
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LUCKSMI VILLAS, THE CHIEF PALACE OF THE GABKWAR OF BARODA, BY WHOSE
COMMAND SPORTS IN THE ARENA AT BARODA ARE HELD
ARENA SPORTS IN INDIA
BY A. SIDNEY GALTREY
In casting round for an appropriate title for the subject-matter of
this article my first intention was to describe it as ** The Wild
Sports of India." Reflection, however, brought a change of mind,
for whilst being wild in the sense that they are barbarous survivals ,;
of an age of long ago, there are also other sports in India, which, i
though pursued from east to west and from Peshawar in the North
to Cape Comorin in the south, are not sports confined to the arena,
and organised at any moment for the edification and gratification
of native rulers. And following the same line of argument there
are one or two arena sports which it would be libellous to describe
as wild — as, for instance, the ancient art of wrestling. One who has • I
been enabled to watch good native wrestling will surely regard it as M
being less wild and more scientific than the wrestling of our western ^
civilisation which London is wont to afford. An ever-present *J
suggestion of wildness must necessarily be associated with all classes
of shikar after big game. The sportsman who has shot his first ^
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92 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
nine- or ten-foot bagh will not like to think that the tiger came to
fall under conditions opposed to a wild environment or circumstances
of danger. In like manner the man who has tilted a good stout
spear at a game pig has experienced some of those rare sensations
that only accompany a wild sport. The term "wild'* is not mis-
used when applied to such fine sports as big-game shooting and
pig-sticking. It is otherwise with the barbarous wildness and passion
for fierce sensations such as are induced by the arena sports con-
ducted in the capitals of certain native rulers in India. They
survive if only to show, as Kipling once remarked, that East is
East and West is West, and *' never the twain shall meet.*'
So little is known in England, and indeed outside of the great
Eastern dependency, of this striking phase of native life that per-
haps no better excuse is necessary for attempting a pen picture.
We are reading a great deal every day of the scenes of Oriental
splendour in the path of the progress made by the Prince and
Princess of Wales ; of the wonderful homage of Maharajahs and
chiefs to the British Raj ; and of the exceedingly Oriental ways of
showing this loyalty. Pomp, pageantry, and picturesqueness are
allied, though they never may be to a greater extent than in the
memorable Delhi Durbar of 1903. When, therefore, we think of
such things, all thoughts of a new order in India are banished. A
truly Indian institution such as sports in the arena will never
vanish so long as such scenes continue to be witnessed as are being
enacted in India at the present time. And yet the old order does
seem to be changing in many respects. Maharajahs are buying motor
cars ; they like them better than gaudily apparelled elephants and
resplendent howdahs. A few of them are visiting Europe, and when
they return they prefer a quieter garb than the blaze of gorgeous
robes and costly jewels. A picturesque characteristic such as the
sports in the arena may, if this new order continues to creep into
the life of the native, be doomed. They will at least die hard, and
while they still flourish on special occasions readers of this maga-
zine may not be altogether uninterested in some details concerning
them.
Instances are many, but let us for the moment turn from what
can be offerel by the arenas at Hyderabad, where the Nizam's
tastes for sport are often as sensational as they are aggressive,
Jeypur, the wonderful ** pearl " city of the fine Rajput Maharajah,
Udaipur, and a host of other capitals of native states that occur to
the memory, and discuss the capital of the Gaekwar of Baroda.
Baroda has furnished its sensations ere to-day in other matters than
those of sport. The present Maharajah, for instance, succeeded a
ruler who was the central figure in a criminal trial on the score that
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ARENA SPORTS IN INDIA 9^^
he was allef]^ed to have attempted to poison the British Resident.
The mind now goes back to a day not long ago when the young
man who will in the ordinary course succeed to the f^adi was
married. He had been to Oxford University, and yet by reason
THB GABKWAR OF BARODA ON A STATE ELEPHANT
of his position as heir to the Gaekwar Maharajah he had to banish
for the time being memories of an Oxford life and go through the
long string of rites, solemn and rigorous ceremonial, and magnifi-
cent pomp of an orthodox Hindu marriage. In a week of festivities
for the entertainment of the Maharajah's European guests and the
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94 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
edification of visiting potentates, the Sirdars of State, and repre-
sentatives of the people, not the least important, and certainly not
the least interesting, were the sports in the arena. What preceded
them had probably possessed a more important significance — the
ceremonial processions; the Imperial Service troops in uniforms of
striking colours; the elephants of State, bedaubed and heavily
decorated ; the two famous Baroda guns, one of solid gold mounted
on a carriage of silver, the other of silver mounted on a gilded
carriage, and the serried masses of the people forming a never-
ending background of motion and colour. Each of these phases of
the festivities had its own special attraction and served to demon-
strate the resources of the State; but the sports in the arena were
to show that those old traditions which in their own parallel are
suggested by the sports of the old Romans still survived and were
indeed as cherished as ever. And not a few of the Maharajah's
guests went to the arena on the day of which I write in motor
cars !
The Maharajah may choose to be borne to the arena on one of
the state elephants or in a carriage drawn by a smart pair of
English-bred hackneys. The former is more in keeping with what
is to follow, and so you may see him whom the people salaam the
occupant of a roomy, swaying howdah, glittering with gold and
fashioned at either end with designs in rampant figures. All that
you may see of the elephant is the head and lower part of the legs.
The rest is covered with a huge jhool of scarlet and gold. The
head is painted blue, and on it is a coloured design showing, say,
a swan or a leopard, the swan or the leopard being drawn so that
the elephant's eye becomes the eye of the drawing. How different
is this stately beast, perfectly trained and decorous in its manners,
from the wild elephants that are so soon to fight in the arena ! Even
the very tail-straps o( the jhool are covered with golden bosses.
You pass from the main arteries of the city to more squalid and
meaner streets, and skirting the old palace of Nazar Bagh, where are
kept the wondrous Baroda State jewels worth crores of rupees, you
suddenly pass under the shadow of a great wall. It comes upon
one abruptly, and might almost be the guardian of some prison
inmates. No indication is afforded of what is beyond. A few more
strides and the big gates swing apart. Now, surely, you are in a
strange place, a sort of vast amphitheatre — a large open space
walled in on all sides, a few turret-like buildings of solid stone
dotted about the centre, and openings like doorways in the long
stretches of walls at intervals of about twenty yards separating
them. In one corner of the great arena is a pavilion built up high
Irom its base with a frontage evidently intended to fulfil all the
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ARENA SPORTS IN INDIA 95
purposes of a comfortable — and safe — grand-stand. Here already
are gathered many of the Maharajah's guests, European and native,
and soon the order will be given to let the sports begin. At the
opposite end to that at which you made an entrance is also a heavy
gateway, and beyond that, outside the walls, there is evidently
something of importance attached to the sports. For there is great
animation. The ringmen are moving with as much hurry and
bustle as it is possible for a native of India to show ; the sense of
expectancy is quickened and every nerve set on end by the appear-
A VIEW OF THE ARENA AT BARODA— NATIVES WRESTLING
ance of these preparations — for what ? Something revolting ? The
idea that something sensational is in store is started by the sight
of throngs of spearmen. They are for the most part in white cupra^
wearing many-coloured puggarees, and carrying long, sharp-pointed
spears. We know that elephants are to fight. Do they fight each ,
other or are they opposed by a whole host of humans ? Presently 'ij
we shall see; but meanwhile there are other arena attendants H
bearing what closely resemble large torches in metal holders. They .^
have evidently not yet received their cues, for they are subdued
and inactive. -
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96 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
While still the big gates — opening to we know not what — are
ajar and men are coming and going in swarms, a signal is given for
a start. Like the circus at home, the Maharajah's head showman
makes modest beginnings, and prefers to delay his "star turns." So
the stage carpenters rush forth, and in the course of a few minutes a
square ring has been railed off in front of the Maharajah's stand.
The precision and speed with which the rails are placed in position
and fixed suggest that arena sports are not of infrequent occurrence
at Baroda. A smart corps of British engineers or sappers would
have been proud of the job. There is some shrill shouting — the
native must always make a noise if he is to accomplish anything —
and whole bevies of men, old and young, take their places on either
side of the square. They wear the big puggaree with flowing ends
so characteristic of the Baroda man. Soon, in different parts of
the ring, acrobats, jugglers, and tricksters of all shades and grades
are at work. The forming of pyramids, excellent tumbling, and
exhausting somersaults constitute the repertoire of the acrobats,
and as each troupe ends its turn the members come to the front of
the grand stand and profoundly salaam the Maharajah and his
guests.
" Has the burra sahib seen native wrestlers at work?" queries
one of the State dignitaries ; and at that moment a number of
burly natives take their places on either side of the ring, each
squatting tailor-fashion until his time arrives. Then at a word, or
at the signal of the clapping of hands, two big men strip to the waist
and prepare to wrestle. Simultaneously another couple engage
themselves at another end of the big square. One man, I remember,
was very big and seemed to possess a great deal more fat than
muscle, and yet he showed great powers of endurance and secured
a fall after twenty minutes' hard going. His joy was a wonder
to behold, for had he not won beneath the very eyes of the
Maharajah? He ran nimbly to the front of the stand, never
pausing for breath ; and, slapping himself and patting his forehead,
he salaamed and fell prostrate. 1 am not able to say whether
native wrestling is actually governed by a code of rules. Probably
it is, for these wrestlers in the arena at Baroda took the business
seriously and seemed as cautious in defence as they were aggressive
in the attack. So far as I could judge their rules are identical
with what is known in England as the catch-as-catch-can style.
What I wish to emphasise is that their wrestling was in no way
incoherent, but seemed to be governed by intelligent tactics and
sound laws.
While big men were still giving each other a gruelling a string
of fighting rams were led into the arena, each between two keepers.
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ARENA SPORTS IN INDIA
All that had preceded their entry revealed little that the average
Anglo-Indian was not already familiar with. The appearance of the
rams was the first sign that animals were to fight on an eJaborate
scale. They were big and heavy enough for the serious business
on hand, but they showed no alarming animation and gave no
anxiety to their attendants. They were of the ordinary Indian
species, possessing full broad foreheads and heavy receding^ horns.
These latter were so placed that they could not possibly do mischief
in the ordinary process of butting. We were soon to discover how
prehistoric man came to call a ram a ram. Two were led into the
BUFFALOES FIGHTING IN THE ARENA AT BARODA
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»&
I
i
ring, one at either end, so that they approached each other diag-
onally across the square. The clamour of many tongues suddenly-
ceased, and two men, bearing a white sheet of cloth, advanced into
the centre of the ring and held it up so that the rams could not see
each other. Then at a signal the sheet was swifily torn aside — the *\
rams were given their liberty, and seeing each other they raced for ;
the centre with grimly lowered heads. fSif '
One felt a catch of the breath, a tightening at the throat, at that Ij^
moment. There was no time for thought, for when within a few ,**.
yards of each other the rams took a spring into the air so as to gain \
impetus for the first awful butt. With murderous precision their .J
NO. cxxvi. VOL. WW.— January 1906 ^ '
98 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
skulls met with a force which sent up a crack heard all over the
arena. I am told this first grand charge is usually the deciding
factor — the knock-out which comes at the cutset instead of the end
— so you may imagine the grim swiftness of this first ram charge.
Both staggered perceptibly, but the heavier suffered the less
amount of recoil, and he returned to the battle. His opponent
was game too, but if he had not actually come by a cracked skull
he must at least have developed a terrible head-ache. In a few
brief moments the butting on both sides grew weaker, and the ring
attendants for the first time betrayed any sentiment when they
separated the fighters and led them away. And so on through a
small flock of burly rams until the unedifying business was ended.
One or two of the beasts were certainly not keen for fight after
engaging in that opening desperate ram at full speed, but not a
single one showed the white feather.
Following the lesser fry of four-footed fighting beasts came
the buffaloes. They were of the species that one might see on
any city maidan in India, yielding milk or used for ploughing or
industrial purposes. Surely this fat and lazy water buffalo was not
capable of strenuous fight ? But these Baroda buffaloes soon banished
any doubt on the point. I have no knowledge of what preparation
they are given immediately preceding arena sports. Perhaps they
are doped ! At any rate, these beasts seemed angry from the first
moment of their entrance. The same formalities as in the case of the
rams were observed. They were hidden from view by means of the
white sheet, which may be seen drawn aside in the illustration,
and then, encouraged by yells and a few sharp spear-prods, they
made for each other and angrily engaged in the first butt. Their
horns are long but laid well back along the slope of the shoulders,
and each strove hard to make the best possible use of them. The
hollow, dull sound of the butts was revolting enough, but it was
positively sickening to listen to the crunching of the horns as they
were torn and twisted. Their demeanour, too, was far wilder than
that of the rams, and had it not been for the rails they would have
carried the fight to the limits of the big arena and away from the
Maharajah's stand. As it was, one young bull seemed to recognise
an old opponent that had thrashed him badly before, and felt that at
all costs he must escape another such punishment. So to the gaping
astonishment of the attendants the bull threw his weight at the
rails rather than face the foe, and, breaking down a passage, he
galloped to the further end of the arena and refused to return.
Would the elephants, too, engage in wholesale murder for the
special delight of the guests ? It was a dread prospect after
witnessing what damage the rams and the buffaloes could do.
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99
^ arena
ARENA SPORTS IN INDIA
Except for hosts of spearmen and torch-besLirers th
emptied. And after a great deal of shouting the form of "^*'** .^^^
elephant suddenly loomed into view through one of th ^^^^t
gateways. His fore legs were free, but the hind legs were sh ^^^^^
together, and attached to the shackles were h uge, cruel w ^^^^
resembling pincers in shape, with long spiked teeth of ^^^^^
So long as these clasped the limbs the great fiathi could ^^^'*
dangerous. A long chain borne by attendants was fast a
the shackles, and, before giving him partial freedom, thy?, a h ^^
CURIOUS STARTING-GATE IN INDIA
pincers were removed. As the chain shackles coupling the hind
legs remained, it will be seen that the movements of the elephant
were still considerably restricted ; but even so he managed to
get over the ground at a surprisingly fast pace. In like manner
a second fighting elephant was introduced to the ring, and so the
two were brought to blows. Hut what followed was certainly less
revolting than the fighting of the rams and buffaloes. They *' pushed
and shoved,*' charged with uplifted trunks to the accompaniment of
sharp cracking trumpetings, and twisted each other savagely by the
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100 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
trunk; but, so far as I could see, there was no serious damage
done. Undoubtedly this was due to the restrictions of the chain-
fetters beliind, and under the circumstances it is reasonable to sup-
pose that the big beasts did not relish the fighting. In the case of
one couple the attendants had hard work to goad them even to notice
each other. The means adopted were to prick with the long spears,
or fire off immense firework squibs in the metal torch -bearers.
Then it was that we saw and appreciated the uses of the openings
in the walls and in the turret buildings about the centre ; for
occasionally the irritated elephant would turn on his persecutor and
chase him. A man's only chance of life in such circumstances was
to vanish into an opening and advance so far that the elephant could
not reach him when using the trunk as a lasso. At Hyderabad
they allow elephants to fight with a good stout wall between them,
but perhaps the Baroda plan is the more realistic. As a change
from fighting between two elephants, a man on horseback would
enter the arena and attack the elephant single-handed. His business
was to go so near as to engage the elephant's attention and then
gallop out of its reach. The business of again securing them and
conducting them from the arena is somewhat protracted. A man
more daring than the rest has to watch his chance to run behind
the elephant and place on its legs the crippling pincers. When
once they are on its movements seem paralysed, and safe removal
then becomes a fairly easy matter.
The story of arena sports in India, so far as it applies to one
particular native capital, has been told, and with slight variations
in methods, and perhaps also in daring, it is the same everywhere.
Whether they will be out-distanced and forgotten by the march of
events and lime remains to be seen. For our administration in
India to-day is educating native rulers to a sense of their duties
and responsibilities, and those responsibilities seem opposed to
the sports I have attempted to describe.
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BOOKS ON SPORT
Outdoor Pastimes of an American Hunter. By Theodore
Roosevelt. Illustrated. London : Longmans, Green & Qq
1905.
The proportion of big-game hunters who write about their
sport is extraordinarily large— a fact that is continually impressed
on those who are connected with sporting magazines ; but few of
them are so good alike in the field and with the pen as the energetic
President of the United States. This book is a record of his out-
door pastimes during the last five years, and includes the chase of the
cougar, bear, wolf, wapiti, various other deer, and sheep. Enthu-
siasm and equanimity are notable points about the President. " In
mid-winter, hunting on horseback in the Rockies is apt to be cold
work," he remarks, further noting that it was eighteen degrees below
zero when he started on a five-weeks' cougar hunt in North-west
Colorado, and the deep snow shown in the first photograph certainly
does suggest chilliness; but the President evidently cared little for
the weather, and thoroughly enjoyed himself. The cougar is pur-
sued by dogs, and Mr. Roosevelt's description of the pack, if so it
may be called, is amusing. Jim was the most useful of the lot, and
after him an animal called Boxer, who was bitten through one of his
hind legs by the first cougar, so that for the remainder of the trip
he had only three to go on — a fact which did not interfere with his
appetite, his endurance, or his desire for the chase. Here is a bit
of description: ** Both Boxer and Jim had enormous appetites.
Boxer was a small dog and Jim a very large one, and as the rela-
tions of the pack among themselves were those of brutal wild-beast
selfishness, Boxer had to eat very quickly if he expected to get
anything when Jim was around. He never ventured to fight Jim,
but in deep-toned voice appealed to Heaven against the unrighteous-
ness with which he was treated ; and time and again such appeal
caused me to sally out and rescue his dinner from Jim's highway
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I02 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
robbery. Once when Boxer was given a biscuit, which he tried to
bolt whole, Jim simply took his entire head in his jaws, and
convinced him that be had his choice of surrendering the biscuit
or sharing its passage down Jim's capacious throat. Boxer promptly
gave up the biscuit, then lay on his back and wailed in protest of
Fate."
The pack had many interesting peculiarities, the author re-
marks, the most extraordinary being that four of them climbed
trees. There is a photograph of one dog, called Turk, who has
pursued a bobcat to what is stated to be an altitude of thirty feet
above the ground. The climbers do not seem to have been by any
means safe in the branches. A dog, indeed, would often lose his
footing and "come down with a whack which sounded as if he must
be disabled, but after a growl and a shake he would start up the tree
again.'* The pack was certainly game, and so likewise were the
President's companions. One of them had a trick of seizing a wolf
by the lower jaw, the performance of which for the first time might
well make a brave man hesitate. Wolves are coursed, and one day
the quarry bit the greyhound which overtook it. ** At the same
moment Abernethy, who had ridden his horse right on them as they
struggled, leapt off and sprang on top of the wolf. He held the
reins of the horse with one hand, and thrust the other, with a
rapidity and precision even greater than the rapidity of the wolfs
snap, into the wolf's mouth, jamming his hands down crosswise
between the jaws, seizing the lower jaw and bending it so that the
wolf could not bite him. He had a stout glove on his hand, but
this would have been of no avail whatever had he not seized the
animal just as he did— that is, behind the canines while his hand
pressed the lips against the teeth. With his knees he kept the wolf
from using its forepaws to break the hold until it gave up struggling.
When he thus leapt on and captured this coyote it was entirely free,
the dog having let go of it, and he was obliged to keep hold of the
reins of his horse with one hand. I was not twenty yards distant at
the time, and as I leaped off the horse he was sitting placidly on the
live wolf, his hand between its jaws, the greyhound standing beside
him, and his horse standing by as placid as he was." The President
thinks this *'a remarkable feat," and there will be few who do not
agree with him.
Abernethy threw the wolf across in front of the saddle, still
holding it, then mounted and rode off. He caught others in the
same fashion, and the author notes the curious fact that they never
strove to fight, seeming resigned to their fate, and looking about with
their ears pricked. A photograph is given of Abernethy holding
the wolf, and another with one he caught subsequently, alive in
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BOOKS ON SPORT
front of him on his horse, a dead one being fastened on behind
Some of the ** punchers " must also have been extraordinarily good
riders. One of them the President noted on a young and partially *
broken horse with no bridle, simply a rope round the animal's
neck.
Some interesting remarks are made on a fact which must have
struck many readers of volumes on sport : that is the way in which
birds and beasts often come to be known by the familiar titles of
creatures that they do not resemble. Unscientific people do not
like to invent names if they can by any possibility employ those
already in use; thus, it is pointed out, the Americans "have no
distinctive name at all for the group of peculiarly American game
birds, of which the bobwhite is the typical representative; when we
could not use the words quail, partridge, or pheasant," Mr. Roosevelt
observes, ** we went for our terminology to the barnyard, and called
our fine grouse fool-hens, sage-hens, and prairie-chickens.*' The
American true elk and reindeer were called moose and caribou, but
for this there is the excellent excuse that the names are Indian. In
South America cougars and jaguars are described as lions and
tigers, and, indeed, all over the world similar confusion exists.
Not the least interesting chapter is that about wapiti, which
the President describes as ** the largest and stateliest deer in the
world." He is evidently a great reader, as well as an admirable
writer, and one of his chapters deals with " Books on Big Game,"
which contains a remark we cannot refrain from quoting. ** If we
could choose but one work," he says, '* it would have to be the
volume on * Big-Game Shooting * in the Badminton Library."
Not only in consequence of the distinguished authorship, but
for its intrinsic merit, the President's book is one which can on
no account be omitted from any sporting librarj^ which has the
least pretension to completeness.
Jules of the Great Heart. By Laurence Mott. London:
William Heinemann. 1905.
This book deserves special mention as one of the most striking
and original novels that has been published for a long time past.
The scene is laid in the little-known region of Hudson Bay.
The characters, new to fiction, as they are here drawn, because of
their reaHty, are filled in with singular force, and the author conveys
the impression — few critics will possess sufficient knowledge to
speak with certainty — that he is thoroughly familiar with the
strange life he depicts. Jules is essentially a man, indomitably
brave, self-reliant, resourceful, absolutely honest — a wonderfully fine
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104 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
character. He is a trapper, what is called a ** free trapper" indeed,
and so a thorn in the factor's side, the factor being superintendent
of the post ; for the honesty which has just been mentioned did not
prevent Jules from taking fur wherever he found it, as he could not
see that it really belonged to the Hudson Bay Company if the
animal which grew it had accidentally diverted its steps from one
of Jules's traps to one of the Company's. For this and for other
reasons a great many men's hands were against him ; Jules was,
indeed, in constant danger of his life, but no one was ever better
able to take care of himself. Early in the book he is pursued by
one of his special enemies, Le Grand by name, and the way in
which the tables are turned is a characteristic adventure. The
dialect employed— a mixture of English and French — adds peculiar
quaintness to the conversations.
In spite of his phenomenal wariness, Jules is captured and
taken to the factor, who has put a price on his head. Jules believes
that his death is inevitable, and is prepared to meet his fate with
Indian stoicism, which so appeals to the factor that his life is spared
on condition that he hunts for the Company ; and he accepts the
terms, faithfully serving his masters until he feels that he has paid
the debt. Jules has a wife whom he tenderly loves — one does not
understand, indeed, why he is separated from her so long — but
finally he sets off with Le Grand, who has now become his most
faithful friend, on a journey to the place where she is. Le Grand
is captured, tortured, and killed, the murderer meeting with a
most hideous fate at the hands of Jules, the avenger. What that
fate is, and how, having broken his leg, Jules drags himself on
his hands and one knee for the last fifteen miles of his journey to
meet Marie, readers may be left to discover for themselves. This
is essentially a book to be read, and to be remembered.
Nature in Eastern Norfolk. By Arthur H. Patterson. Illus-
trated. Methuen & Co., London. 1905.
Mr. Patterson may be described as a born naturalist, who, one
perceives from his autobiographical chapter, could by no possibility
have passed his life otherwise than he has done. His father was a
shoemaker in humble circumstances, and the boy had to work as
soon as he could earn money, fate leading him to the humblest
position in a chandler's shop, the proprietor of which sold coals as
well as tea, bread, and candles. But every hour the budding
chandler could seize for himself he devoted to the living creatures in
the fields, hedges, and ditches around him, and the first twopence
he saved went in the purchase of a little paper-covered book called
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BOOKS ON SPORT 105
** Gleanings from Natural History." Soon after he came of age
young Patterson obtained a position as supernumerary postman, but
he had previously contributed to the press, an article on Kingfishers
having been published by a London daily paper. For a short time
Patterson seemed to have found his true career, for he was made
manager of a small zoological gardens near Manchester; but the
affair came to grief, and returning to Yarmouth, his native town, he
obtained employment as a draper's warehouseman. From 8 a.m.
to 8.30 p.m. he served his master, but he was up before the house-
martins which were twittering with their heads outside their doors
at three o'clock in the morning, and he stole forth to watch the life of
the creatures he loved so well.
It will readily be understood that the observations of such a
student as this are worth the most careful attention. He writes of
nothing that he has not seen, and the conclusions he draws are not
derived from books — though he sometimes checks the statements of
other authors — but from the birds and beasts themselves. To a great
extent the volume is a catalogue, with notes and comments, of the
birds, fishes, mammals, reptilia, amphibia, of the country he has
ranged. What sort of pets Mr. Patterson has kept will be guessed.
Otters have been among the number, and he says that their disposi-
tions vary. One he had was so tame that it used to run about the
house and play on the hearthrug with the children. He has had
badgers, too, but has found them generally '* very intractable,
differing greatly in this respect from the fox and the otter,'*
creatures which are capable of exhibiting traits of strong affection.
It is rather curious to come across a note to the effect that the
fox in 1834 was very seldom seen in East Norfolk. *' Probably the
indigenous local race is extinct," Mr. Patterson says, and it is
thought worth special record that one was seen crossing the river
at Haddiscoe in 1834. We most cordially agree with Mr. Pat-
terson in thinking it a great pity that gamekeepers do not turn
their attention to the destruction of rats rather than to that of their
enemies — stoats, owls, etc. Rats, as he truly remarks, will un-
doubtedly increase in proportion to the extirpation of the Mustelida.
The criminal neglect which is enabling rats to thrive and grow
in town and country alike is a blunder for which we shall all
have to pay.
HO. cxxvi. VOL xxu.-^Jamufy 1906
H
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BADMINTON NOTA BENE
At the present mcment multitudes of people are suffering from
perplexity as to what they can give for Christmas and New Year's
gifts. A visit to the Royal School of Art Needlework should at once
solve the difficulty. The \Nord ** art " in this connection is not a
misnomer, though the productions of the school are far from being
limited to ** needlework." That is only one part of the business, for
here can be purchased antique pottery, furniture, metal work, and
various other objects which are precisely what the seeker after
Christmas presents requires. Visitors need not fear that the prices
of the articles are beyond the reach of modest purses ; one can,
indeed, spend a great deal of money, and the temptation is doubtless
great, but there are all sorts of cheap little things also.
***** *
Ladies' clubs are a feature of the period, and one which should
prove avast comfort and convenience to residents in Kensington and
the vicinity is the Ladies* Park Club, the premises being situated at
Wilton House, 87, Knightsbridge, opposite the French Embassy and
Albert Gate. The social position of the committee and vice-
presidents is beyond all question, and affords a guarantee of the most
unimpeachable character; but the tariff is remarkably low, a hot
luncheon, for instance, being served for is. Sd , and a dinner of five
courses for half a crown. The club is intended to be ** quiet and
exclusive without being dull or dowdy,*' and everything seems to
have been thought of and provided for in the carefully compiled
rules.
ij- * * * * *
Steadily and surely the motor as applied to the water is going
ahead. The Marine Motor Co. of 2, Army and Navy Mansions,
Victoria Street, London, S.W., have just completed some im-
portant Government contracts, and are building just now a 40-foot
cruiser for Mr. Foster, of Bradford, which is to be fitted with a
sixty horse-power engine. This should certainly travel ! They also
have in hand an order for a very large paraffin motor for the
Imperial Japanese Government, for Japan is nowadays to the fore
in everything that is new.
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A PRIZE COMPETITION
The Proprietors of the Badminton Magazine offer a prize or prizes
to the vahie of Ten Guineas each month for the best original photo-
graph or photographs sent in representing any sporting subject.
Competitors may also send any photographs they have by them on
two conditions : that they have been taken by the sender, and that
they have never been previously published. A few lines explaining
when and where the photographs were taken should accompany
each subject. Residents in the country who have access to shooting-
parties, or who chance to be in the neighbourhood when hounds are
running, will doubtless find interesting subjects ; these will also be
provided at football or cricket matches, and wherever golf, cycling,
fishing, skating, polo, or athletics are practised. Racing and steeple-
chasing, including Hunt Meetings and Point-to-point contests,
should also supply excellent material. Photographs of Public School
interest will be specially welcome.
The size of the prints, the number of subjects sent, the date of
sending, the method of toning, printing, and mounting, are all
matters left entirely to the competitors.
The Proprietors are unable to return any rejected matter
except under special circumstances, and they reserve the right of
using anything of interest that may be sent in, even if it should not
receive a prize. They also reserve to themselves the copyright in
all photographs which shall receive a prize, and it is understood that
all photographs sent are offered on this condition.
The result of the January competition will be announced in the
March issue.
THE NOVEMBER COMPETITION
The Prize in the November competition has been divided among ij
the following competitors: — Mr. C. F. Shaw, Nottingham; Mr. R. %
I
F. Smith, Montreal; Mr. John A. Douglas, Montreal; Mr. W
Pfleiderer, New Maiden, Surrey; Mr. Robert W. Hillcoat, H.M.
Transport Plassy, Southampton ; Mr. P. T. F. Oyler, Durie, Leven, ^(\
N.B.; Mr. R. H. Martyn, Cheltenham; Mr. R. W. Cole, Bexhill- .j
on-Sea (two guineas) ; and Mr. G. Romdenne, Brussels. *]
H 2 '^
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loS THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
OVER !
Photograph by Mr, C. F. Shaw, Nottingham
CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH BETWEEN MONTREAL AND OTTAWA
Photograph by Mr. R. F. Smith, Montreal
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PRIZE COMPETITION 109
QUORN HOUNDS AT KIRBY GATE
Photograph by Mr. John Day, Leicfster
A JDMP OP TEN FEET BY A SALMON ON THE MINGAW RIVER
Photograph by Mr. John A. Dcu^Ias, Montreal
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no THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
PRESTBURY PARK AUTUMN RACES, I905
Photograph hy Captain W . J. W. Kerr, Prestbury Court, Gloucestershire
A DIVE FROM LIFEBOAT OF P. AND O. STEAM YACHT " VECTIS " IN FUNCHAL
HARBOUR, MADEIRA
Photograph by Mr. \V. Pfleiderer, New Maiden, Surrey
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FRIZl:: r(3M PETITION iii
A START — CALPB TURF CLUB MBBTING. NORTH FRONT, GIBRALTAR
rhifinntiiph hv Mr. .-i . Smith, 1)2 H2, Crutchetts Ramp, Gibraltar
SRMI-FINAL OF THE MIDDLE-WEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP OF H.M. TRANSPORT "PLASSY,"
OUTWARD BOUND WITH THE WEST RIDINGS (33RD REGT.) AND DETAILS, OCTOBER 1905
Pkotograhh by Mr. Robert \V. Hillcoat, H.M. Transport " Plassy," Southampton
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112 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
A SHOOTING PARTY IN MAURITIUS
Photograph by Mr. A. A. Lucas, Garden Court, Temple
ON THE AIGUILLE AT THE GRANDS MULETS, MONT BLANC
Photograph by Mr, R. W, Stuart, Brasenose College, Oxford
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PRIZE COMPETITION ii3
i
if
START OF A HURDLE RACE AT WORCESTER, MAY I905
Photograph by Captain E. C. Jennings, Royal Fusiliers, Peking
SHOOTINC, A CROSSINC; PARTRIDGE
Photograph by Mr, P, T, F. Oyler. Diirie, Leveu, N.B.
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114 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
FINALS OF THE HCAVY WEIGHTS — ASSAULT-AT-ARMS, H.M.S. "BRITANNIA," 1905
Photograph by Miss /If. N. Waller, Beenham Court, Newbury
A CUB-HUNTING MEET
Photograph by Mr. F. H. Mutton, Lincoln
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PRIZE COMPETITION ,i^
Photograph by Mr. R. H. Martyn, Cheltenham
WHO CALLED THE OFFICBR ?
of the Koyal Sussex Keglmeni whi
ten I as a sunshade
Photograph by Mr. /. M. Hulton, 2nd Royal Sussex Regiment, Candia, Crete
Pet donkey of a detachment of the Royal Sussex Regiment which always used the officers
tent as a sunshade
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ii6 THK BADMINTON MAGAZINE
A MAHOUT MOUNTING HIS ELEPHANT BY HHIDING THE EARS AND STEPPING
ON THE TRUNK
Photograph by Captain W. G. Thompson. R.H.A., Lvcknow
WATER POLO — A CORNER OF THE "FIELD"
Photograph by Mr. R. W. Cole. Bexhill-on-Sea
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PRIZE COMPETITION 117
EXRRCISING THE DOGS
Photograph by Mr. H. L. Hoyle, Todmontcn
A GOOD JUMP
Photograph by Mr. G. Romdenne, Brussels
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ii.S THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
ESSEX OTTER HOUNDS— "A CASE OF TERRIERS*
Photoataph by Mr. ]\\ J. Abrey, Tonbridge
PUSH BALL MATCH BETWEEN THE OFFICERS OF THE WEST YORKSHIRE RBGIMBNT
AND THE 87TH ROYAL IRISH FUSILIERS
Hhotograph by Mr. C. E. Kinahan, Syth Royal Irish Fusilurs, Wellington
Barracks, Dublin
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MR. ARTHUR COVENTRY STARTING A RACK AT LINCOLN SPRING MBBTING
The Badminton Magazine
SPORTSMEN OF MARK
IV.— MR. ARTHUR COVENTRY
BY ALFRED E. T. WATSON
For a great many years past, I should be inclined to say from time
immemorial, the name of Coventry has been associated with sport.
It seemed quite in accordance with the eternal fitness of things, for
instance, that in the early sixties the sisters Emblem and Em-
blematic should have carried off the Grand National in the colours
of that most respected of sportsmen the present Earl, and that his
name should be recorded as a Master of the Buckhounds. Pro-
minent among hunting men in the Shires more than a decade before
the consecutive Liverpool victories was another member of the
family, the Hon. Henry Amelius, son of the eighth earl, whose
second son, Arthur, was born at Melton Mowbray in 1852, to prove
HO. czxvii. VOL. JOLiu—Ftbruary zgo6 I
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I20 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
himself in the course of time in all ways a most worthy representa-
tive of the famous house.
I once in conversation asked Mr. Coventry at what age he first
began to ride a pony, and the question fairly puzzled him, for he
could not remember a time when he did not ride, or indeed when
he did not hunt. Another query I inquisitively put to him was
what made him take to race-riding, and this also gave him serious
pause, until after a while he hazarded the opinion that he "sup-
posed it was natural instinct," which one can well understand to
have been the case.
As it happened, his elder brother, ** Bee," was one of the finest
amateur horsemen ever known — indeed, the word " amateur " need
not be employed, for Captain '* Bee " Coventry held his own with
the very best of the professional horsemen, and his finish on Alci-
biade for the Grand National of 1865 was among the most brilliant
efforts in the history of that exciting contest. Arthur, rising four-
teen at the time, may well have been inspired, particularly seeing
that the family colours, as just remarked, had been borne to victory
in the two previous years. A desire to emulate the feats of the
brother who was the object of his devoted admiration could not
fail to influence the boy; and so it befell that at Croxton Park
in 1874 he wore silk for the first time, a four-year-old named Billy
Button having been entrusted to his guidance. Three months later,
at the Worcester Meeting, he won his first race, the Worcester
Cup, 5 years, 10 st. sib. (carried 10 st. 81b.), on Baby (and was
nicknamed " Baby " accordingly), the horse, which started at
100 to 8, beating a red-hot 7 to 4 favourite. The Druid, ridden
by R. Wyatt, a short head. In the year following at Melton
he won his first steeplechase on a mare of Lord Carrington's
called Amy, beating Captain Riddell, an experienced rider, to get
the better of whom was decidedly a feather in the young amateur's
cap, especially as behind him were such men as Lord Queensberry
third. Captains W. Hope-Johnstone and ** Doggy " Smith, Col. Har-
ford and Mr. ** Roily." It was chiefly in jump races that Arthur
Coventry performed ; and though in these early days he does not
appear to have stood out prominently — for race-riding is a business
which essentially requires practice and experience — he was suffi-
ciently good to be entrusted with the handling of Mr. Vyner's Bell-
ringer in the Grand National Hunt Steeplechase of 1879. A note
by the late Duke of Beaufort in the Badminton Library Steeple-
chase volume may here be quoted : " The course at Derby, where the
meeting took place that year, was an extremely severe one, so much
so that a protest against its severity was made by some of those
interested in the event. Mr. Arthur Coventry, on being consulted,
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MR. ARTHUR COVENTRY
I 2
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122 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
declared it to be in his opinion an excellent course, which any
alteration would tend to destroy ; and the result proved that he, at
least, found it suitable.'*
It was about this time that Tom Cannon was attracted by the
neatness and skill of which he perceived the more than promise in
Mr. Coventry, who on his part had begun to entertain that enthu-
siastic admiration for the great jockey which grew in intensity so
long as he continued to figure in the saddle. Tom Cannon at this
time, 1880, had bought a horse from the late Sir John Astley, the
popular ** Mate," called Timour ; and wanting a jockey for it at the
Bibury Club Meeting, he asked Arthur Coventry to ride — this being
the first of the innumerable occasions on which my old friend wore
the scarlet and white hoops of the ** Master of Danebury.'* In the
eighties there were probably more animals in training at Danebury
than at any otlier establishment, a formidable string of jumpers as
well as flat-race horses. It was a delightful house to stay at, as I
can record from my own knowledge, having been privileged to be
a frequent guest; and on these glorious downs Arthur Coventry
may be said to have finished his education — there, that is to say,
and at the various meetings at which he rode the horses he had
schooled and galloped at home. Winners were easier to find in
those days than they are now, and if anyone wanted to know what
to back, it was never a bad thing to have a few sovereigns on
Mr. Arthur Coventry. It need scarcely be said that there was
never a question of the Danebury horses being ** out," and when
Mr. Coventry was in the saddle it was perfectly certain that if the
animal were good enough he would win his race. A pleasant recol-
lection of this period is Mr. Arthur Coventry on old Hesper, one of
the very best hurdle jumpers ever known, who, I think it is safe
to say without going into tedious details, won more races than he
lost, for the most part with Mr. Coventry up.
He did not win one, indeed, which would have inflicted a serious
blow on a rash sportsman who had laid 3^10,000 to £100 against the
horse securing the flat-race at Croydon, the big Hurdle Race at
Sandown, and the Lincolnshire Handicap. The first he carried off,
the second likewise fell to him, and the bold layer must have ex-
perienced the severest qualms when he found Hesper with only
7 St. I lb. to carry a good second favourite at 7 to i for the first big
handicap of the season. For this, however, the son of Speculum
and Hesperithusa was not good enough, the race falling to the
Comte de Lagrange's Poulet, who beat Mr. W. S. Crawfurd's
Master Waller a head, the same owner's grey, Buchanan, third.
** Hesper usually won," Mr. Coventry remarked to me, when I
asked him for some details about the horse ; and the Calendar shows
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MR. ARTHUR COVENTRY j^i
how well the remark is justified. Other hoops in which the rider
distinguished himself were the primrose and rose of Lord Rose-
bery; for on the Chester Cup winner of 1882 Arthur Coventry
carried off several stakes. And another good jumper whom he often
rode to victory was Beatus.
It was at the Manchester Meeting of 1882 that Mr. Coventry
made the acquaintance of this animal, having been asked to ride
him in a selling race with the information that he was rather shifty
but jumped all right. Mr. Coventry found him, on the other hand
in all respects a charming horse to ride, and won so easily that
seeing he had only 10 st. in a good-class handicap next day he
A MEET OF THE COTTESMORE HOUNDS AT KNOSSINGTON HALL, FOR SOME TIME
THE HOME OF MR. ARTHUR COVENTRY'S FATHER
said in answer to inquiries that it was certainly well worth running.
In hard condition at the time, 10 st. 5 lb. was the lowest he could
do : and to get off the surplus in twenty-four hours was a hard task.
But there was a nice horse to be ridden, and so, by walking hard,
and omitting such little luxuries as dinner and breakfast, on the
smallest of saddles Mr. Coventry just did the weight and won his
race, easily beating Too Good, a notable Irish jumper, ridden by
Mr. H. Beasley.
On one occasion, indeed, Beatus won a race much to Mr.
Coventry's chagrin. This was at Derby in 1883. Notwithstanding
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124 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
that Prudhomme had 12 st. 10 lb. to carry, he was supposed to be
fully equal to the task, especially with Mr. Coventry riding, and
the one that seemed chiefly to be feared was Lord Hastings's Zeus,
ridden by James Adams — though really, in sketching these little
chapters of Turf history behind the scenes, I am not sure that I
ought to call " James " Adams anything but "Jimmy." Mr. Arthur
Coventry on Prudhomme, however, and Jimmy Adams on Zeus,
were alike convinced that whichever beat the other would win the
Devonshire Handicap. Both were masters of the business, and
each set out bent on pulling it ofif if possible ; so, never far apart,
they jumped their hurdles and galloped over the ground between
them. Towards the finish each was equally on the alert to seize
that psychological moment when with chances equally balanced
races are lost or won by, as it were, a gleam of inspiration. Which
endeavoured to get first run I do not know ; but whilst the pair of
them had all their thoughts and energies directed to the question,
they suddenly became aware of the fact that something full of run-
ning was flashing up on the off side. It was Beatus, ridden by his
own boy, A. Wood, and not thought worthy of consideration — he
started at 100 to 7 offered — but Wood understood the game a bit
better than had been supposed. His well-timed run had given him
the advantage, and he flashed past the post a neck in advance
of Prudhomme, who was in turn a neck in advance of Zeus.
Mr. Coventry said nothing. "Where the devil did you come
from ? *' was Jimmy Adams's perplexed inquiry to Wood as they
rode back to weigh in.
Beatus was thought good enough to win the big hurdle race at
Auteuil, especially as Arthur Coventry was free to ride. The horse
stayed well, and Golding, who trained him, advised the rider to lay
well up with the leaders, and to come away two hurdles from home.
Mr. Coventry came away much earlier in the struggle, notwith-
standing that he was never unmindful of his instructions ; but after
winning by a great many lengths he rode back to the enclosure and
showed Golding his gloves, torn into ribbons, proof of the fact
that he had done his best to hold the horse.
Often as Mr. Coventry carried the scarlet and white hoops to
success, he sometimes found himself opposed to them ; and one of
these occasions was when the late John Jones, father of Herbert
Jones, the King's jockey, was up on Ubique, who was thought a
certainty, Mr. Coventry having been asked to ride a horse called
Golden Beam. Ubique was one of a trio belonging to an eccentric
owner who had named the horses for the apparent purpose of
puzzling the ring. The other two were called Unique and Utique.
To the man of even very modest education the names presented, of
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MR. ARTHUR COVENTRY ^^5
course, no difficulty; but it will be perceived how easily such
nomenclature led astray the racegoer whose scholastic attainments
were wanting. Unique was a dissyllable, and if Unique why
not " Ubeek " and " Uteek " ? It was borne in upon the perplexed
student of the card, however, that Ubique was a trisyllable with the
accent on the "bi,"and he not unnaturally failed to understand
why the ancient Romans, or whoever the idiots were who invented
this sort of language, did not say Utlque with the accent on the
" ti'*; or on the other hand, if they wanted to knock the backer ofif
his balance by saying Utlque, with the accent on the U, why they
did not also say Ubique ? No one will be very much surprised to be
told that these horses were often called out of their names, especially
MR. ARTHUR COVBNTRY ON IRISH WAKB AT STOCKBRIDGB
{Photograph by W. A. Rouch)
perhaps as running at the same time was a daughter of Exminster
and Una, called Unice. This, however, is by the way. Ubique,
ridden by John Jones, was supposed to be a Danebury good thing,
whilst Golden Beam was thought to have no chance, his only backer
being Arthur Coventry's brother Aubrey, who always had a tenner
on Arthur's mounts, however remote their chances appeared to be;
and on this occasion the 100 to 8 chance Golden Beam just did
Ubique by a short head. Tom Cannon's disappointment at being
beaten on his 4 to i good thing was mitigated by his pleasure at
seeing his pupiPs brilliant finish. Nothing was said, but, meeting
Mr. Coventry on his return to the paddock, heartily if silently Tom
Cannon shook the winner by the hand. I reminded Mr. Coventry
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126 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
of this story the other day, and with characteristic modesty he
begged me to leave it out ; but I am risking his displeasure in
relating the anecdote, because I think it is a very pleasing little tale,
eminently to the credit of all concerned. I may add here that
I lately asked Tom Cannon for details of races at this time, and
he winds up his letter about his old friend with the words, " There
is nothing you can say that is too good for him."
It is only the advertising tipster who knows for a certainty
what will win every race that is run — that is to say, of course, if
one believes his statements, which one may do if sufficiently lacking
in common sense. There was a little tragedy, for instance, when
Mr. Coventry rode Keepaway on one occasion for Lord Rossmore.
This was by way of being a good thing, and the owner was equally
surprised and delighted to find a bookmaker willing to lay him six
monkeys against it. Keepaway did not, indeed, stay for ever, but
he had a nice turn of speed, and, with this judiciously saved, was
thought sure to win. Mr. Coventry- timed his one run to the
second; but Keepaway swerved a little to the right just at the
moment when his opponent swerved to the left, the consequence
being that Mr. Coventry caught the other jockey's arm, lost his
whip, one stroke of which could not have failed to land the six
monkeys, and so, momentarily hampered, was beaten a head.
One of Mr. Coventry's early successes was on The Scot at
Croydon ; the horse, a son of Blair Athol, afterwards passing into
the possession of His Majesty. This was the first animal that
Mr. Coventry ever rode in the National, but he failed, not being a
genuine stayer, and did no better in the following year when, ridden
by John Jones, he started first favourite at 6 to i in the race won
by Voluptuary, who finished his career on the stage of Drury Lane
Theatre, where he was in the cast of a melodrama called The
Prodigal Daughter y and jumped two fences in a representation of the
great steeplechase, the hero riding him. Bellringer, Mr. Coventry's
National Hunt Steeplechase winner, was another of his Liverpool
mounts ; but the horse was knocked over, as horses so often are at
Aintree. On Jolly Sir John, a representative of Danebury, he had
another essay in Zoedone's year, and he also rode Montauban, for
Mr. Baird Hay, winner of a large number of races, but in this
National he was most emphatically not fit. I forget who trained the
horse, and may be doing him an injustice in sharing a belief which
was current at the time that he was disappointed at not having a
jockey of his own selection in the saddle. Montauban, however,
had certainly not done anything like the work that is imperative for
a National winner, and Mr. Coventry discovered this when riding a
gallop a couple of days before the race. When they had gone some-
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MR. ARTHUR COVENTRY 127
thing less than three miles the horse was stone cold, blowing hard
from want of condition, and Mr. Coventry, pulling up, exclaimed
with equal astonishment and disappointment, "Why, this horse is
not nearly fit ! '* " Well, it can't be helped now, sir, can it ? " was
all the satisfaction he got from the trainer.
His fifth and last ride in the National was on Redpath in 1885.
About this time Mr. Coventry was retiring from the saddle, but he
was, of course, eager to win a Liverpool before he gave up. Tom
Cannon was equally anxious to supply him with the opportunity,
and Redpath, lost. 3 lb., certainly seemed to have a tremendous
MR. ARTHUR COVENTRY GIVING DIRECTIONS FOR PARADE FOR
PRINCESS OF wales' STAKES
{Photograph by W. A. Rouch)
chance, notwithstanding that 20 to i was laid against him, Roque-
fort being a hot favourite at 100 to 30, with Zoedone and Frigate
well up in the market. At this time the Grand National finished
over hurdles. If it did so nowadays there would be the loudest
outcry against the decadence of the sport, and the most contemp-
tuous protests that genuine steeplechase horses could not be expected
to jump hurdles ; but one and twenty years ago this was the state of
the case, and as the field approached the penultimate row of sticks
Redpath was going so well that Mr. Harry Beasley, on Frigate,
called out to Mr. Coventry, ** You've won easily enough this time ! '*
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128 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
** It's not all over yet/* Mr. Coventry replied; and immediately
afterwards Roquefort forged ahead, Frigate lasted on, and Redpath
tiring, Black Prince passed him and finished third, Mr. Coventry
just missing a place.
Redpath, it may be incidentally observed, had the luck to win
the Grand Steeplechase de Paris in the following June. Roquefort
was favourite for this, followed in the market by Redpath, 6 to i,
and Prince Edward, 7 to i, the last two being both Danebury-
trained ; and the betting was far from representing their chances,
Prince Edward, it was believed when he left home, having something
like 21 lb. the best of it. He, however, fell in the race, knocking
Captain Lee Barber out, and cutting his head badly, Redpath being
good enough to win from a French 50 to i outsider called Mon
Premier, Chancery, Mr. Harry Beasley up, third. Lowe rode the
winner, and it may be remarked that at this time, in contrast to the
present state of the case, more than half the runners were English,
besides those mentioned, Redpath, Chancery, Roquefort, and Prince
Edward, there being Hardware (Count Kinsky), Lioness (Mr. George
Lambton), Captain (Mr. D. Thirlwell), Kilworth (Sly), Donnycarney
(Hatchett), and Buckshot (Kavanagh) ; but this is by the way.
On a good fencer Mr. Coventry subscribes to the general
opinion that there is no course like Liverpool, though it may be
remarked just now, when the fences are being prepared for the next
celebration, that many of those chiefly concerned strongly disapprove
of the jumps being splashed up with green twigs, as they have been
of late years. The horses are used to jumps of this sort elsewhere,
so have an idea that they may chance them, brushing through the
tops as they can with impunity on some other courses ; the conse-
quence being that they get turned over.
One of the best animals Mr. Coventry was accustomed to ride
under National Hunt rules — we shall come to flat racing presently
— was a mare called Boisterous, owned by Tom Cannon ; and for
the Metropolitan Hunters' Flat Race of 1881, 10 sovereigns each,
200 added, at Sandown, she was certainly one of the " best things
ever known racing " — to use the familiar phrase. At this time
Mr. Coventry was winning a number of stakes on a more than use-
ful horse called The Owl, belonging to Mr. Harry Hungerford, who
was then a prominent owner ; and, wanting to try Boisterous, Tom
Cannon asked Mr. Coventry if he thought Mr. Hungerford would
lend them his consistent runner. The son of Blinkhoolie and No
Name was placed at Cannon's disposal, and then the question arose
as to the weights that should be carried. If Boisterous beat The
Owl at evens, would that, Tom Cannon wanted to know, be good
enough for the Sandown race ? and seeing that The Owl, carrying
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MR. ARTHUR COVENTRY 129
13 St. 71b., had just comfortably disposed of a useful animal called
Gimcrack who was receiving precisely two stone, Mr. Coventry was
somewhat amused at the suggestion, convinced that The Owl could
give Boisterous, then at the beginning of her five-year-old career, a
great deal of weight. It was decided, nevertheless, that they should
try at evens, Arthur Coventry riding The Owl, whom he knew well,
Tom Cannon on his own mare, and that they would have a couple
of racehorses in to make a pace. The two latter jumped off,
Boisterous third with The Owl at her girths, and so they went
COMING BACK AT LINGFIBLD— MR. ARTHUR COVENTRY TALKING TO MR BULTBBL
{Photograph by W. A. Rouch)
for the best part of a mile. ** Come on, Mr. Coventry," Tom
Cannon exclaimed as they galloped along ; and ** I'm coming as fast
as I can, Tom ! " was all that he could urge in reply. Tom Cannon
kept pulling his horse back, Mr. Coventry tried to take advantage
of the fact and get ahead, but never had a look in from first to last,
until, pulling double, Boisterous had passed the real winning post,
leaving The Owl to go on a few hundred yards further for the
benefit of any touts who might happen to be scrutinising the gallop.
" I suppose you know I could have beaten you a quarter of a mile ? "
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130 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Tom Cannon observed as they pulled up. **Just about as near a
quarter of a mile as makes no matter, Tom," was the answer ; and
on Boisterous at Sandown Mr. Coventry naturally achieved one of
the easiest of victories.
I chanced to be at Danebury when Boisterous was schooled
over fences for the first time, and described the incident in a book
published some years ago called '* Racecourse and Covertside."
Boisterous did well ; but perhaps I may be allowed to quote my
description. She had jumped a couple of hurdles in good style, and
Tom Cannon decided that she should have a try at the steeplechase
jumps led by a chestnut horse called Hugo. I hazarded the opinion
that so good a hurdle jumper must prove a flyer at the other game.
** ' Yes, but this is different,' Tom Cannon said ; ' she can see
through the hurdles, but here's a great black thing and she doesn't
know what's on the other side. I shan't be surprised if she refuses,
but if she does jump she will have to clear it or come down — for she
can't brush through ; it won't give. However, she has got to learn
some time or other, and she may as well begin. Here they come ! '
* And she means having it, too ! ' I exclaimed, as the chestnut horse
came on with a vigorous rush, the mare following in his wake."
** Nearing the fence she pricked her ears, and seemed, as it were,
to measure the distance with her eye ; then gathering herself to-
gether, rose at the leap, cleared it in perfect style, and was away
again on the other side after her chestnut leader without a percep-
tible pause. * Capital ! I hardly thought she would have done it
so neatly. There she goes again, too ! ' Cannon said, as the pair
approach and fly over the second obstacle. * Yes, that's first rate.
I like the way she looked at it and took in what she had to do.' "
Boisterous nevertheless proved a disappointment over jumps.
She was a heavy-shouldered mare, and pitched on landing when
going at racing pace, so that it was only on the flat that she dis-
tinguished herself.
I was talking one day to Fred Archer in the weighing-room, I
think it was at Lewes, when he took up a race-card and observed :
** 'Jockeys seven pounds extra,' and Mr. Arthur Coventry riding.
That's a nice treat for the jockeys ! "
** Can't you give him seven pounds ? " I inquired.
** No, nor seven ounces," Archer replied. "Over a mile he's
just as good as any of us. At five furlongs we are more used to
jumping off*, and may perhaps have just a bit the best of riders who
are not always at it ; but over a mile no one is better than
Mr. Coventry."
That was the verdict of one who will be admitted as a com-
petent judge ; and, I may add, it only bore out the general opinion.
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MR. ARTHUR COVENTRY jjr
No one, too, appreciated, I should say appreciates, horseman-
ship more than Arthur Coventry. I remember at Epsom standing
next to my friend in the Club Stand to watch a race in which Tom
Cannon rode a horse of his brother's against an Epsom-trained
mare called (I think) Black Duchess. These two were out by them-
selves as they neared the distance, but Black Duchess seemed to have
all the best of it, and someone standing close to us exclaimed, as
he watched them, ** It's lo to i on the mare." ** An even sovereign
on the other," Arthur Coventry replied, taking the offer of odds
as a figure of speech ; and after a desperate finish ** the other " won
KBMPTON PARK — MR. ARTHUR COVENTRY GIVES UP HIS COB TO
P. WOODLAND, WHO FELL
a head. '* What made you back it ? " I said to him. " It looked
to me any odds on the mare ? " " Yes, but I knew Tom would do
something extraordinarily wonderful in the last hundred yards ! "
he rejoined ; and Tom certainly did.
It may be said without hesitation that no one has done more
than Mr. Arthur Coventry to maintain the reputation of the genuine
gentleman-rider. Here is a little story with which I chance to be
acquainted, bearing on the subject. A certain personage had some
horses, in which he did not take very much interest, leaving details
as to their running, and so forth, to someone who managed for him.
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132 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
This manager, looking for a jockey one day in a gentlemen-riders*
race, naturally went to Mr. Coventry, asked if he were engaged, and
hearing that he was not, begged him to ride.
" I think it's a good thing," the manager said, " I don't see
what's to beat you, and I should advise you to have a pony on."
Mr. Coventry never ventured much on his own mounts, for
some mysterious reason, seeing that when he was in the thick of the
fray he not seldom had a biggish stake on a horse ridden, perhaps,
by an indifferent 5 st. 7 lb. boy ; but on this occasion he ventured
his pony and was beaten. A week or two afterwards the manager
asked him to ride the same horse again.
" He's come on since he ran last, and his race did him good.
We ought to get a good price, too, and you'll get your pony back
with interest," he said.
** I'll ride him with pleasure," Mr. Coventry answered, " but I
can't fancy him. There are two or three that I think ought to beat
him this time. It's not good enough to bet on."
" I don't agree with you," the manager said, "and I shall cer-
tainly put your pony on."
** Please don't do anything of the sort," Mr. Coventry replied.
'* I really won't bet."
" Oh, but you must. I shall put a tenner on for you at any
rate. You must have that."
" No," Mr. Coventry said, emphatically, " I won't back it for a
shilling; please don't do anything for me."
The horse started at 10 to i, won half a length, and on the
Monday Mr. Coventry received a cheque for £100 from the manager.
Telling a friend the story of what had occurred, he added, " I
couldn't take the money, of course ; but I was rather puzzled. You
see, I don't know anything about Lord 's manager. He maybe
the straightest fellow in the world, and very likely he is ; but, on the
other hand, I thought that if I sent him back the cheque I shouldn't
know what became of it ; so — though I wanted the money badly
enough, goodness knows ! — I tore off the signature and returned it
that way. Lord , when he looks at his book, will at any rate
see that I never cashed his cheque."
It is pleasant for a gentleman rider to be able to go into the
weighing-room with a happy confidence that there is no question
about his status, and some years ago when a skilful horseman, who
notoriously made a living out of the game, boldly claimed the 7 lb,
allowed in a certain race for gentlemen riders, Mr. Coventry was .
in a position courteously to inquire whether the claim was justified.
The Steeplechase volume in the Badminton Library appears as
the work of Mr. Coventry and myself. I had a hard task to
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MR. ARTHUR COVENTRY 133
persuade him to undertake the business, he protesting that he was
no penman ; but, of course, his knowledge and experience were
invaluable. The Duke of Beaufort urged him to help, and his
brother-in-law, the late Lord Suffolk, who it is almost needless to
say was one of the most brilliant writers of the period — a large
claim, which, however, may be made without any exaggeration —
promised all possible assistance, and, I may add, gave it. So it was
arranged that we should talk the chapters over together, that I
should do the actual writing, and that Arthur Coventry should come
and hear them read — criticising, commenting, and suggesting until
MR. ARTHUR COVENTRY WAITING FOR ROCKETERS
{Photograph by W. A. Rouch)
we got things into shape ; and thus the book was written.
Mr. Coventry used to come to my house to hear what I had done,
and then if any technical questions arose as to the precise manner
in which horses landed over their fences, or what not, he would say,
** I think we had better go down and see Tom Cannon.*' So to
Danebury we would go, confident of a kindly welcome, we had
some of the horses out, and published the results of our obser-
vations.
Wanting occupation, and loving the atmosphere of the race-
course, Mr. Coventry, when he gave up riding, applied for the post
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134 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
of Starter, and was, of course, cordially welcomed. He has done
admirable work in this capacity, as all racegoers are aware, both
with the flag and since the introduction of the gate; if he has a
fault it is really a virtue — infinite patience mixed with over-anxiety.
There is perhaps more ignorant criticism of starting than of any-
thing else in racing. Some horses are in their strides at once,
others begin slowly — perhaps swerve or are badly bumped ; and so,
though they may have been in most perfect line when the barrier
flew up, all the jockeys equally ready, in fact, when the start has
been simply perfect, there is sometimes a wide distance between
leader and last when they have gone a few hundred yards; the start
being set down as wretched, and the starter as a species of criminal.
In the days when Mr. Coventry was winning many races, and
full of enthusiasm on the subject, he confided to me that he would
rather catch a big salmon than win any race ever known, and his
keenness for the rod continues. A regular visitor at Gordon Castle,
his skill as an angler has been shown by the landing cf many big
Spey fish. He is also an excellent shot with gun and rifle alike,
though a victim to the acutest attacks of stag fever. " You feel cool
as a cucumber till you get that wretched rifle in your hand," I have
heard him say, "and then the fever catches you, and you don't
know what you are doing." The end of it, however, in his case, is
usually a good head.
It is difficult to write about the character of a friend whom one
has the pleasure of constantly meeting, and with regard to this it
will be sufficient to say that there are the best of reasons why
Arthur Coventry should be, as he is, one of the most popular men
in England.
^•^*^te;^
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STRANGE STORIES OF SPORT
XII.— THE SATYR MAN
BY H. KNIGHT HORSFIELD
The great museum was closed for the day. In the dim galleries
many skeletons stood : whitened bones of man and ape and mam-
moth ; grinning masks and fleshless limbs ; weird relics of things
which had once wandered in long-forgotten forests, or browsed on
plains now hidden by the sea.
The subordinates had departed, and Mr. Sugg, the assistant
curator, accompanied by a friend, alone remained. Mr. Sugg was
young — young and untravelled enough to have eliminated all mys-
tery from the universe. For him poetry was merely an elevated
form of ignorance, and wonder a matter of imperfect education.
He smiled at the word " Soul,'' knowing that Life is a process
pretty much akin to combustion, and for the weaker brethren,
including religionists of all denominations, his contempt, even if
genial, was none the less thorough. In the spectral light, and
surrounded by the jetsam of the dead ages, he was engaged in
arranging certain bones on a rough table for the delectation of his
friend.
" Now, these are what beat us," he said, when he had con-
cluded the arrangement to his satisfaction. " We have never been
able to determine with certainty the species to which they belong."
His friend, no mean zoologist by the way, examined them with
keen interest.
" Gorilla ! " he said, at length, rather decisively.
Mr. Sugg appeared to be amused. " Before we travel quite so
fast we may at least take it that the remains are those of a true
anthropoid ape."
His friend assented. ** Certainly," he replied.
NO. cxxvu. VOL. xxii. — February 1906 K
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^36 THE BADMINTON MAGA2INE
" Well, wait a moment. In the first place we may, of course,
pass by the gibbons. Apart from the question of size, the extreme
relative length of hand and arm so characteristic of the gibbons
(Hylobates) is too conspicuous by its absence here** — indicating the
skeleton — " to make further inquiry on that head necessary. Now
we come to the orang. The length of the entire foot of the orang,
as compared with that of the backbone, is strikingly great. In the
present case the length is not remarkable. Again, take the hand ;
there is no marked discrepancy in the relative lengths of thumb and
fingers. The orang has the shortest thumb as compared with the
forefingers of all the anthropoids."
The friend reflected. "That is true,'* he said. "As I told
you, there is nothing for it but the gorilla, or possibly the
chimpanzee.'*
Again Mr. Sugg smiled.
" But the ribs," he said ; ** there are only twelve pairs, as in
man. No gorilla or chimpanzee has ever been discovered with
fewer than thirteen. Then the wrist-bones; there are only eight.
In a chimpanzee or gorilla there would be nine."
The friend looked utterly blank. ** Still, the skeleton is not
that of a man," he said, reflectively. "Apart from the abnormal
length of limb, the bones of the feet alone make such a hypothesis
untenable. You see that the hallux is so constructed as to oppose
the other toes (much as our thumb can oppose the fingers), instead
of being parallel with the other toes and exclusively adapted for
supporting the body on the ground. The prehensile character of
the hallux, in fact, is fully developed, and renders the foot a distinct
and tremendously muscular hand. By the way, what does Stacpoole
say of it ? "
Mr. Sugg toyed with the bones a moment without speaking.
" That is the really strange part of the business," he said, at
length. " Stacpoole says never a word."
But although Professor Henry Stacpoole, whose name rings at
short intervals through the whole scientific world, has systematically
refused to enlighten the curiosity of Mr. Sugg and his like, it by no
means follows that he has nothing to say.
The unclassified bones which Mr. Sugg handles with profes-
sional carelessness are closely linked with an episode in his career
which he is never likely to forget. Incidentally they may be said
to have discovered for him a very charming wife, but their associa-
tions have none the less a distinctly painful side. The skeleton has
never been articulated in the ordinary way ; usually the bones are
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THE SATYR MAN 137
stored in one of the vast drawers which hne the workroom. For
whenever the Professor's glance falls upon them he sees a dim vista,
in a West African jungle. The ground is slippery with blood, and
a girl, newly snatched from death, is at his side. However, here is
the story : —
With his reputation still in the future, Henry Stacpoole, like
most young zoologists, was avid of discovery. He was also a keen
sportsman, and the spirit of adventure was strong within him.
When, therefore, a letter came from the Rev. Dr. Stirling, a mis-
sionary settled at Bak^li, hinting at mystery and sport, Stacpoole
read it with unusual interest. Bak^li is a small station on a
tributary of the Gaboon River, and Stirling wrote of a tradition
current amongst the natives, that certain large ape-like animals
differing from all recognised species exist in the dense jungles
thereabouts. These animals were named indifferently, Gina,
Qugeena, and M'wiri, the latter a term signifying ** Satyr Man."'
The higher caste Fans, Stirling went on, had a superstitious
reverence for these strange creatures, and refused in any way to
molest them, believing that the souls of their dead ancestors had
entered their bodies. This belief had given rise to a Fantee saying :
** He who kills M'wiri kills a Soul." A further safeguard from
offence lay in the fact that M*wiri was credited with altogether
supernatural knowledge and power : that his long arm could reach
his adversary irrespective of place or distance, at any time, no
matter how far he might flee, nor howsoever cunningly he might
hide himself. Stirling concluded by saying that notwithstanding
his long residence, he had never seen one in the flesh, but that
recently certain unidentified bones, which he forwarded, had been
brought to the mission house. He was interested to know what
Stacpoole would make of the matter.
Now Stacpoole recalled certain words of Winwood Reade's :
he remembered Wallace had predicted that new forms akin to the
gorilla might still be found in the dense, unexplored forests of
Western Africa. And here was a remote spot practically on the
Equator, the mystic line which all the giant anthropoids love; and
here was the legend — widely spread, whatever might be its base —
that the new form actually existed. Besides, there were the
bones.
After a very brief delay for the procuring of suitable arms and
accoutrements, the West Coast mail steamer bore Henry Stacpoole
down the Southampton W^ater on his way to the Gaboon.
The mission house at Bak^li was of bare wood, thatched with
fan palms, with a wide veranda in front. It had been originally
occupied by the native catechist and his wife, and fell far below any
K a
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138 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
European standard of comfort. Still, it contrasted favourably with
the irregular rows of huts which surrounded it, and Stacpoole was
well content.
The road of beaten red dust, strewn with unnamed debris, ended
in the rude market-place, where the butchers sold their reeking
goats' flesh. To the left the silent river ran, almost hidden in places
by the dense tangle of creepers and lianas which lined its banks,
and behind grew clumps of wild ginger and stately groups of date
palms. Here William Stirling lived his simple life amidst the
savages, the monotony of which was alone broken by the stray visit
of some official from the distant railway on a hunting-trip, or of a
drunken half-caste Portuguese rum-dealer. Here Stirling's devoted
wife lived and died, and the little stone which marked her grave
could be seen gleaming white at the foot of the palms.
Stacpoole found himself welcomed warmly, and it was only on
his arrival that he learnt that the old missionary had a daughter.
Later, she entered the little bungalow where the two men were
seated.
** A strange child, Stacpoole ! " said the old man, as he stretched
out his gnarled and knotted hand to clasp the little white one at his
side. ** She wanders where she will in this Heaven-forsaken country.
She has no fear."
Stacpoole glanced at the slight figure and fair, delicate face of
the girl as she stood stroking her father's hand.
** It strikes one as being rather a wild life for a young lady," he
said. '* Miss Stirling should at least avoid some of the errors of
conventionality."
When they were alone the old man again spoke of his daughter.
" Yes," he said, reflectively, " I sometimes wonder if I am
acting fairly to Enid in permitting her to remain here. But she is
so happy— and — and so strangely good. Even to me she app)ears
like a spirit. She passes through the foulest scenes, the most devil-
like orgies, but she touches them exactly as pure sunlight might.
Darkness, sin, disease — even in this death-dealing climate she has
never known ache or pain — seem to shrink from her as though she
were something of an essentially different nature. As I said, she
knows nothing of fear. When the plague decimated half the
country-side, she was out alone in the blackest night on her errands
of mercy. The lowest savages, even the wild animals, seem to
recognise something which they cannot understand, but which they
instantly give way to. She is a strange child ! "
Stacpoole assented. Even he had been touched by the sense
of radiant power which this girl, who was little more than a child,
seemed to possess. But for the keen sportsman and naturalist there
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THE SATYR MAN 139
was something more important afoot than missionary capacity,
however sublime. He unstrapped the cases where the rifles were
carefully packed, and he noted with satisfaction that his host ran
over their fine lines with a practised eye, and that his hands
lingered on the barrels with the pleasure which betokens the old
sportsman.
Already the conversation had turned many times on M'wiri, the
mysterious ape-like creature of which Stirling had written. The
old man was deeply interested in the matter, but he had little of
personal knowledge to impart.
** Since the day of my first coming here many years ago," he
said, ** I have heard rumours of this strange beast. They were
usually accompanied by wild tales plainly apocryphal, and I dis-
missed them from my mind. In this weird country anything seems
possible. A touch of fever in the blood, and dark forms may arise
in the brain which it is hard to distinguish from realities. It is best
to be on one's guard."
" Is it not possible to interview anyone here who has really seen
the apparition, god or brute, as it may be? " asked Stacpoole.
The old man looked troubled.
" Few state that they have actually seen it," he said ; " and it is
hard to get them to speak. As I told you in my letter, I had doubt
of its existence, but "
He paused, and the troubled look deepened on his face.
Stacpoole looked up quickly.
*' The fact is Enid now claims to have encountered it. I can
hardly believe it to be pure hallucination— but — the circumstances
are so strange. You know well the timidity of all the gorilla tribe ;
how it takes most careful tracking to get a sight of them at all.
Well, here is a monster, vaster in girth and length of limb than any
known man, moving in the midst of the street at broad midday,
passing her within three feet."
** It must have been seen by many others besides Miss Stirling? "
said Stacpoole, quickly.
** No; the street chanced to be empty — that is not unusual. It
is strange — very strange — but something of the Fantee feeling, which
I have hitherto held to be blank superstition, appears to have affected
the child's mind. There is no fear; not even shrinking. She has
nothing of these in common with the Fans. It is rather a sense —
how shall I express it ? — a sense almost of reverence ; a feeling that
it would be a terrible, even an impious, thing to offer it injury. We
must beware how we discuss any murderous scheme in Enid's pre-
sence, Stackpoole ! "
That night Stacpoole smiled a little in self-derision. His hope
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I40 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
of adding a new anthropoid to the meagre list already known to
science was growing remote. It occurred to him again that the
bones might be merely some abnormal example of a known type
after all. The evidence of the existence of a new sf)ecies became
more and more shadowy — the half-dreamy babblings of a few super-
stitious savages, most of which were demonstrably absurd ; the
" vision *' of a neurotic girl, seen amid circumstances in the highest
degree improbable — upon these rested his hopes, lately so rosy.
He looked from the low veranda. The African moon had
risen. It touched the snaky lianas and other monstrous growths
with unearthly radiance. A white gleam lay upon the river, and
dim forms rose, or seemed to rise, in the water, appearing to dissolve
rather than to sink, leaving the mind restless. Strange perfumes
were in the dead air, and sometimes a low, wailing cry came from
the woods. Above, towering far into the gloom, rose the funereal
plumes of the date palms.
Stacpoole turned aside impatiently. In this devils-land any-
thing seemed possible. Given but a touch of the omnipresent fever,
and the strongest brain might see trees as men walking.
He took out the rifles and began to oil the locks. Even if
M'wiri was a myth, there were deer in the woods, and hippo and
crocodiles in the river.
In the morning two scantily attired savages, Kanga and
Salombo, stood stolidly in the veranda; mighty hunters and pro-
fessional trackers who knew the jungles as snake or tiger might, and
who could subsist for many days on a cassava ball or mere handful
of plantain paste.
Yet, keen sportsman as he was, Stacpoole showed no undue
eagerness for the fray. The fact was he had become rather interested
in Miss Stirling. At first psychologically, and subsequently for
reasons which hardly came within the domain of true science.
Anything apparently less neurotic, or more winsome, than this
daughter of the forest he had never met. She was so utterly free
from the artifice usually inseparable from feminine civilisation that
Stacpoole had come to look upon her as a child. Yet her know-
ledge was extraordinary. In the matter of the intricate fauna and
flora of the region he found himself sitting at her feet, drinking from
deep and original wells of information. Plainly she owed nothing
to the text-books: she had an instinct for birds and beasts and
flowers, and she saw them in new and interesting lights, always at
first hand. A saving grace of humour destroyed all trace of the
bluestocking, and the little caressing ways which she had never been
taught to hide were delightful to behold.
Stacpoole refrained from referring to M'wiri, If the girl were
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THE SATYR MAN 141
the victim of hallucination, as he firmly believed, the matter were
better left. Still, she was a most interesting companion.
As the little hunting party passed through the village, Stac-
poole's attention was attracted by a hideous and extremely old
savage sitting in the red dust of the roadside. He was attired in
the uncouth garb of a native priest or witch-doctor. His mouth was
partly open, and his eyes had the fixed piercing quality not infre-
quently seen in the insane or the dying. He appeared to look
through the group to some distant vista beyond, but he gave no sign
of being aware of their presence.
Stirling touched Stacpoole's arm. " Come ! " he said. " Don't
speak to him. We may have trouble. — That is Mongulamba,"
he added later. " Mainly mad, I think, but with some method in
it. Why he is here, I don't know. He belongs to another tribe —
cannibalistic devil -worshippers, if rumour is true. They have learnt,
however, to keep their proceedings carefully secret. So much of
civilisation has at least reached them. But why that half-witted
monstrosity is hanging about here, so far from his own people, it is
difficult to imagine."
But Stacpoole soon forgot the loathsome figure squatting in the
dust. A new world seemed opening around him. The wonders of
tropical vegetation, the giant ferns, the trees which were each a
towering mass of flowers, the brilliantly dyed birds and butterflies —
all these brought a new delight to the soul of the naturalist. In its
lower reaches the river broadened into a lagoon, and here the keen J
eye of Salombo, peering through the tangled greenery, marked a 1
dull grey object lying like driftwood on the water. Here Stac-
poole got his first shot at a crocodile ; but, although the bullet was •
true, the grey driftwood merely sank from sight, and appeared no ^
more. f
That night the young naturalist felt at peace with the world. •
The bag might be nil, M'wiri might be the mere phantom of a fever- ^
striken imagination, but at least he had gained a near intimacy with |
a tropical forest, a thing worth many journeys, and one which ^
surely no man can ever forget. As Stacpoole lighted a cigar he
heard Kanga and the stalwart Salombo busy in the small bamboo
enclosure where they cleaned the rifles and prepared the gear ready
for the morrow.
Within the little bungalow Miss Stirling was still seated at the
table. Her father had risen and had moved towards the door.
Outside, the moon made little pools of light, their outlines sharply
defined by the black shadows of the trees. The girl had been
chatting merrily with Stacpoole. Suddenly she fell back, her eyes
fixed strangely on the little blindless window.
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142 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
" There ! There ! It is there ! '* she said, in a low, breathless
voice.
Instantly Stirling turned and seized her in his arms. '* Enid —
Enid — my darling," he whispered, soothingly, "you forget yourself.
You are dreaming — dreaming ! "
But Stacpoole had leapt to his feet, his face pallid with
excitement.
** By Heaven, she was right ; I — I saw it myself. There was a
weird, unearthly face pressed to the glass."
In a second more he was outside. *' Kanga — Salombo," he
whispered, ** the guns — quick, and not a sound ! "
The hunters knew many words of English, and handed the
rifles silently, wondering what game was afoot. Then, armed
themselves, they passed out quietly with Stacpoole into the
blackness of the trees.
The ground here was fairly free from undergrowth, and Stac-
poole lined out his men with orders to shoot if anything moved.
In the stillness of the night the crackle of a dry twig could be heard.
Every second Stacpoole expected to hear a mighty rush, but
nothing stirred. They were now nearing the edge of the belt of
timber. The pale light began to filter through the trees and to
illuminate the wide open space beyond. Sometimes a faint breath
of wind moved the boughs, and again all was silent. Stacpoole
leaned against a tree and waited listening.
Suddenly a sound came — a half-cry choked in its utterance.
A noise of crushing, followed by the fall as of some heavy body
from a height. Then again all was silent, save for the faint
rustling of the boughs.
On the instant Stacpoole had rushed to the spot whence the
sounds had come, barely twenty yards away; but Kanga had reached
it first. For one moment he crouched over the shattered corpse of
Salombo, whining like a dog. Then with a terrified cry of " M'wiri !
M*wiri ! " he bolted through the wood like a gun-shy setter.
« « 4» « ♦
For many days the death of Salombo spread consternation
through the village. The natives feared to leave their huts. Stac-
poole, alone, rifle in hand, worked the nearer woods day by day,
but without result. A sense of gloom descended upon the little
bungalow, and Miss Stirling's face grew white and strained. Even
Stirling himself appeared to be uneasy.
One day he took Stacpoole aside. ** I wish you would cease to
hunt for this accursed thing," he said, somewhat abruptly. " It is
affecting Enid's mind. Do you know she claims to have seen this
weird beast again ? "
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THE SATYR MAN 143
Stacpoole started. " She must not venture out," he exclaimed.
** The thing is too dangerous.''
Stirling passed his hand with a distressed movement across his
brow. ** It is not that," he said. " I begin to fear for her reason.
She contends now she has not only seen it, she has touched it, held
some uncanny communion with it, and .she asserts vehemently that
we are in the presence of some Power, some Intelligence which we
do not understand."
In his turn Stacpoole looked distressed. ** Poor child," he
thought ; ** pray heaven it is only a touch of fever. In this land of
shadows dreams thicken into realities. I have felt it myself. I will
speak to her. Surely her mind cannot have gone hopelessly astray."
He was standing in a clearing in the wood where Stirling had
left him. It was still early to return to the bungalow. He knew
some of the better-marked tracks in the forest fairly well now, and
he turned down one of these which led to the river.
He rested for some time hoping to see the grey motionless
streak which marked the head of a waiting crocodile, but the black
waters were empty of living things. It was growing dark when he
came to the village again, with the plumes of the date palms hovering
far above him in the gloom like ominous wings.
Near to the spot where he had seen Mongulamba hunched up in
the dust he met the Kruboy, Kanga, breathless and scared. Stac-
poole spoke to him sharply.
** It iss Missy Enid ! " he panted — " Gone away — lost ! "
Stacpoole turned in sudden fear. " What new devil's business
was this ? " he asked himself.
Kanga's vocabulary was of the sparsest, but he made himself
clear. Enid had disappeared, leaving no trace behind, and Stirling
was already away with a hastily mustered search party.
It was long after midnight when the two white men met at the
bungalow, each having taken his own line of search after the missing
girl. They recognised the foil)' of wearing their strength out in the
blackness of the jungle, so they had come back for food and water.
Now they lay down with their rifles at their side to await the tardy
dawn.
When the first streak touched the little window they were ready,
talking in hoarse whispers. Their hope rested largely on the sagacity
of the Kruboy, Kanga. In many broken words he had already com-
municated to Stirling his summing up of the situation. It was the
eve of the great sacrificial feast of the devil-worshipping crew to
which Mongulamba belonged. And Mongulamba had gone too.
Stirling's face took on a dull greyish hue in the early light. He
fingered the trigger of his rifle a little nervously. If that and all
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144 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
which lay behind it were true, he would gladly have compromised
the matter by putting a bullet through the little one's heart with his
own hand.
A bitter disappointment was in store for the searchers. The
men whom they had relied upon as scouts and guides had all dis-
appeared. In their cooler moments the terror of the M'wiri had
reasserted itself, and their accustomed haunts knew them no more.
Kanga alone stood firm. For the moment he had forgotten the god-
beast in his honest solicitude for the little White Lady whom he
loved. With his rifle slung on his shoulder he would go out to meet
mortal foes, though he knew them to be in numbers which would
render his life not worth a pin's fee, without one single backward
glance.
Seeing that it was idle to attempt to get together a stronger
gathering, Stacpoole and Stirling took a plentiful supply of cartridges
and set their faces to their task. It was a heart-breaking thing to
follow the Kruboy through the thorny tangle, the dark lithe form
holding on its way unwaveringly, following some unseen track.
There was consolation in this. Kanga, at least, knew where he was
going. Many times the two lay down from sheer exhaustion, but
the nameless terror in their hearts forced them to rise almost
instantly. So, torn and bleeding, they went on for what appeared
to be days, when suddenly Kanga dropped on his breast and lay
still. Stacpoole seized his older companion and helped him
forward, and together they lay by the side of the Kruboy, choking
back their sobbing breath and watching the sweat drop from their
faces upon the grass.
A sense of dreaminess oppressed Stacpoole. Peering through
a vista in the dense growth he could only make out the scene before
him little by little. In a darkened corner of the jungle where the
strong sun left its traces only in the dimmest twilight, he saw
figures sitting. They appeared to be grouped about a circle of rude
stones heaped in strange devices. On every side the vegetation
made a wall, and a dense canopy of interlaced branches stretched
above their heads. The figures were so motionless that it was
sometimes hard to detach them from the grey up-heaped stones.
In the centre of the circle there appeared to be a stake or bare
tree-trunk from which a slim pale form depended.
Stacpoole wiped the moisture from his eyes. In the dimness
and utter silence the feeling of unreality deepened. He heard
Stirling fumbling uneasily with the lock of his rifle. The old man
leaned heavily close to Stacpoole's ear —
" Can you see to shoot her ? " he said, hoarsely. ** We can't
leave the child alive,"
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THE SATYR MAN 145
Stacpoole assented. It was plain the girl must not be left.
At the first shot he knew there would be a straight rush for their
hiding-place. The three, back to back, might hold their own for
a little while, but the end could not be long delayed. Then the
girl would be left alive, and that plainly must never be. He must
wait a little for his trigger finger to grow steady; he was still
breathless with the run. And when at length he knew the little
one to be safe in death, then — oh, then to let hell loose for so long
as the living hand could cram the cartridge into the breech !
As he waited the savage ranks swayed as though stirred by the
wind. A new figure appeared and bent before the altar. At a
glance Stacpoole saw him to be the mad priest Mongulamba
whom he had last seen crouched in the village dust. He appeared
to be muttering some incantation to which the surrounding group
responded by a swaying motion of their heads. One hand was
extended, and in the other Stacpoole caught the dim gleam of a
knife.
As the priest knelt murmuring his monotonous chant, some-
thing moved in the leaves above his head. One or two of the
worshippers turned their listless gaze upwards. The restless stirring
came again. Then unreality closed in upon Stacpoole, and he lost
belief in his eyes. From the matted mass of lianas a great hairy
foot slowly protruded — slowly and silently like some hideous piece
of mechanism it descended, and gathering around the throat of the
kneeling man drew him swiftly upwards. Stacpoole saw the livid
face and heard the crushing bones, and in a moment more a shape-
less mass fell on the stones below.
The whole scene was enacted with incredible celerity. For a
while the savages never moved ; then one stretched out his hand
and took up a broken twig, examining it curiously. In a second
more the spell suddenly dissolved, wild cries filled the air, and the
brushwood was torn aside by a hundred flying feet.
Stacpoole and his wife rarely speak of the matter now. Some-
times the Professor half deludes himself that he was the victim of
some fever- engendered hallucination, but he has still two dead men
to account for.
Enid, on the other hand, stands to her guns. She thinks,
rightly or wrongly, that the British Association have not yet
succeeded in plucking out the whole heart of nature's mystery ;
that there are domains, especially in West Africa, for the feet of
science yet to tread,
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THE CRESTA ON A RACB DAY
TOBOGGANING IN THE ENGADINE
BY MRS. AUBREY LE BLOND
(IVUh Illustrations from her Recent Photographs)
The word ** Toboggan " is thought to have originated amongst the
Indians of North America, who used a machine thus called for
dragging their baggage from camp to camp. We need not feel
surprised if, even in summer, a wheelless vehicle was employed, as
even now we often see hay being transported down steep slopes of
grass in Switzerland on hand sleighs, while in certain places it is
still the custom for visitors who have ascended on foot or on horseback
to noted points of view to be dragged down again in very light
sledges.
The Canadian type of machine is flat, without runners; and
though in Switzerland a good deal of enjoyment may be got out of
the use of these machines over suitable slopes of snow, yet the sport
has never really *' caught on'' in Europe. Canadian toboggans can
be obtained from Knecht of Heme, or in London at Gamage's of
High Holborn.
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TOBOGGANING IN THE ENGADINE 147
A far more costly machine, and one as yet only to be found
at very few places in Switzerland, is the modern steel-skeleton
toboggan. This was evolved by an Englishman, Mr. W. H.
Bulpett, from an American type, of which more anon. The Hon.
H. Gibson, in the introduction to his admirable little book, "To-
bogganing on Crooked Runs" (Longmans, Green & Co.), says,
quoting the words of a well-known hotel keeper : ** We Swiss
looked upon tobogganing as a fitting amusement for children until
you Englishmen came among us and made of it a sport for men ;
now you have gone still further — you have made that sport an art.'*
JUST BELOW THE START, CRESTA
So spoke Herr Peter Badrutt while addressing the St. Moritz
Tobogganing Club in 1894, and his words sum up shortly the way a
new sport has arisen in the Alps of Switzerland.
I do not propose to enter at any great length into the history of
tobogganing in the Engadine and at Davos ; but a brief account of
the evolution of the machine, mode of riding, and making of suitable
ice runs, will I think be of interest. Those desiring further details
can find them in Mr. Gibson's book (referred to above), or in that
by Mr. T, E. Cook, the popular and scholarly author and journalist,
himself a tobogganer of experience.
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148 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
In 1883 it occurred to the late Mr. John Addington Symonds
that it would be interesting to institute an annual toboggan race on
the high road between Davos and Klosters. Two other Englishmen,
Messrs. Horan and Broadbent, entered heartily into the scheme,
and guaranteed amongst them a sufficient sum for prizes. The
initial race was run on February 12, 1883. There were twenty-one
competitors, and first place was tied for by Mr. C. Robertson, an
Australian, and P. Minsch, a Swiss postman, whose duties caused
him often to thrust himself along the Klosters road with the pegs
used for steering, thereby putting him in splendid training.
German, Dutch, and English also ran in it, thus suggesting "The
International " as a suitable title, and one that it has borne ever
since. By the following year it became evident that the race would
be a permanent annual event, so Mr. Symonds presented a silver
challenge cup to be added to the first prize.
In 1885 another race was instituted, which is now looked upon
as the sporting event of greatest importance in any of the Alpine
winter resorts. This was the St. Moritz Grand National, and it
was won on that occasion by an Englishman from Davos, Mr. C.
Austin. It was held upon the now famous Cresta course, and, as
in the International, all the competitors rode old-fashioned Swiss
coasters, or " Schlittli," in a sitting position.
We now come to a change in the method of riding, though the
machine was still the same. The St, Moritz Post, in its report of
the Grand National of 1887, contains the following remark:
** Mr. Cornish caused the chief excitement in the race by riding his
toboggan head first. . . Hitherto Mr. Cornish had been particu-
larly successful in negotiating the difficulties of the course, and had
almost succeeded in obtaining converts to this way of tobogganing,
which at any rate has the charm of novelty. Unfortunately he
came to grief more than once during the race, though the extra-
ordinary quickness of his recovery astonished the onlookers ! "
The winter of 1887-88 marked a new era in the history of
tobogganing. This was entirely due to the arrival at Davos of an
American, Mr. L. P. Child, of New York, who having had experi-
ence of coasting at home, determined to try it at Davos on a
machine of the type he was used to. After considerable difficulty
he managed to get one built at Davos, and having christened it
** America," he proceeded to demonstrate the advantage of it over
all others. He rode it head-foremost, but lay sideways, American
fashion, and not flat on his face. He won the International
race that year, held on the Clavadel and not the Klosters road, and
later on came over to St. Moritz to compete on the Cresta. But
when he saw the course he decided not to attempt it. Experience
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TOBOGGANING IN THE ENGADINE j^^
has shown that his judgment was sound, and nobody has yet
succeeded in taking an ** America " safely through the Church Leap
under the conditions under which Mr. Child rode, lying on his side
and steering with his mocassined foot.
It was evident that the head-first position demanded braking
?
THE FINISH OP THE CRBSTA AND THE BOB-RUN— MR. MARTIN, WINNER
GRAND NATIONAL I905, RIDING
power, and this was supplied somewhat later by steel rakes screwed
to the boots.
An interesting feature of this race was that two " Americas "
were ridden in it, one by Mr. Cohen, who went down sitting and
proved the winner; the other by Mr. Wilbraham, who adopted the
lying posture, but fell. The 5/. Moritz Post, commenting on the
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150 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
race, remarked that it was evident that toboggans of the ** America"
type were unsuited to the Cresta run !
In 1889 the International was again won by an American,
Mr. Stephen Whitney, riding an " America " head-first. Three
others out of the twenty-two competitors also rode "Americas,"
Mr. Bulpett adopting the sitting posture.
However, St. Moritz had by this time decided that the new
machine was infinitely safer and faster over any course than the old
type, ** and in a race on the Cresta, run on January 26, all the
seventeen competitors rode * Americas.' " One only, Mr. H. \V.
Topham, dared to attempt the head-first position, but he was very
WAITING THBIR TURN AT THE TOP OF THE CRESTA
i slow in one run, and fell in both the others. . The Grand
I National of that year was won by Mr. Vansittart lying on a queer
j machine, a sort of short Canadian with spring runners, thus
demonstrating the great advantage of the prone position on a low
I machine.
j The year following, 1889-90, saw another development, due to
the new and costlier machines which were now the fashion. That
• these had an immense advantage over the ** hand-schlittli " was fully
I proved, and as Mr. John Addington Symonds' Cup race had been
instituted to encourage the native element on their everyday sleds,
j it seemed unfair that this new element should deprive them of all
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TOBOGGANING IN THE ENGADINE 151
chance of success. So it was decided that the Symonds Cup
should be competed for only on Swiss toboggans, and that another
race, called the Symonds Shield, should be held as well, open to
all types of single toboggans — if approved by the committee. As
the sitting position was not compulsory — it became so later — in the
Cuprace, Mr. Whitney rode a *Muge" head-foremost, and accom-
ON THB CRBSTA, FROM THE RAILWAY BRIDGE
plished a feat never since repeated, that ot winning both the Cup
and the Shield races.
The Grand National of this season was noteworthy, for all the ^
fourteen riders except one rode head-first. %
NO. cxxvii. VOL, JOUL— February i^ L %
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152 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
1891-92 was marked by an extraordinary series of successes by
a single rider, Mr. H. W. Topham, who won nearly everything that
could be won, including the Davos International and the St. Moritz
Grand National. His victories also marked the beginning of a
new era, that of the steel-skeleton toboggan, which with the
sliding seat introduced a few years ago is the machine in use at the
present day. It was the invention of Mr. \V. H. Bulpett, and was
constructed throughout of the best English steel.
No other ice-run of at all the same importance as the Cresta
has as yet been constructed anywhere. The next best is the Village
ANOTHER VIEW OF THE FINISH OF THE CRBSTA, AND ALSO OF THE BOB-RUN
run at St. Moritz. This is one also at Davos Platz and one at
Grindelwald.
For a number of years visitors to the Engadine in winter were
quite satisfied either to toboggan on the high roads, or else to ride
over snowy meadows on tracks beaten down simply by the passage
of the machines.
I have seen the whole evolution of modern tobogganing in
Switzerland, and well remember the problems which had to be
solved when great bumps and holes formed in these snowy runs,
as they did more and more when the number of visitors using
them increased. Finally it became clear that there was only one
way to keep a much-used run in working order, and that was to
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TOBOGGANING IN THE ENGADINE 153
ice it. St. Moritzers had always a fancy for courses with sharp
corners, lending variety to the sport, and calling for skill in the
riders, so the evolution of a crooked ice-run out of a winding one
of snow rapidly came about.
The engineering and the construction of the now famous Cresta
run took some years to perfect, but in 1894 Mr. Bulpett had given
tobogganers a course much as it is to-day. The length of the
Cresta is three-quarters of a mile, with a fall of 600 ft., giving a
gradient of about i in 8. In 1900 two riders, one a Swiss, the other
an Englishman, covered 50 measured yards at the rate of 75 miles
an hour, their times being recorded by an electric timing machine.
MR. W. H. BULPETT, THS ORIGINAL ARCHITECT OF THE RUN. WATCHING THE WORK
ON IT, ON HIS RETURN TO ST. MORITZ IN I905
Directly the first winter fall of snow takes place at St. Moritz
the construction of the Cresta commences, though much of the
course has been laid out in summer by raised banks of earth and
the removal of any obstacles likely to injure a rider who falls over
a corner. The course is made from the bottom upwards, allowing
sections to be opened as soon as each is ready, and facilitating the
study of the run on the part of beginners. There is a path near
the run, so that riders may walk up and examine the various diffi-
culties the Cresta presents, and consider how best to overcome them.
The practised and skilful tobogganer will use his rakes as little as
L a
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154 THE BADMINTON MAGA2INE
possible for guiding, what is called " body steering " interfering far
less with the pace. At the end of the run is a steep bit of uphill
(after the winning post is past), and here it is always necessary to
brake hard, as otherwise rider and machine fly up into the air on
reaching the top. On one occasion, in 1900, for purposes of photo-
CHURCH LEAP
graphy, Mr. Spence allowed himself to shoot forward with the
utmost velocity, making a clear jump of 66 ft. !
Not many ladies attempt the Cresta, but all who do adopt the
lying flat position. The children often ride admirably, and on
account of their light weights and fearlessness they frequently run
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TOBOGGANING IN THE ENGADINE 155
their elders very close indeed. Mr. Ralph Pulitzer, of New York,
as a boy was one of the b^st riders at St. Moritz, as was Captain
Dwyer when a child ; and Lady Rachel Saunderson's little girls, the
youngest of whom was only seven, did excellent times and rode with
skill, intelligence, and pluck.
During the season of 1900 a lady for the first time on record
won her colours. Miss Lorna Robertson, of Australia, making the
fine time of 74I sec, a record frequently beaten by her in practice.
Miss Robertson's father, an old Oxford Blue, was the first to start
the idea of theCresta run, and he and Mr. Harold Freeman, son of
the great historian, and himself also an old Oxford Blue, may be
looked upon as the pioneers of the sport as it now obtains in
Switzerland. Mr. Freeman still winters at Davos Dorf, where the
Sports Hotel Fluela Post is thronged by the healthy portion of
visitors to that resort. In January, 1906, Mr. Freeman was orga-
nising tobogganing v^nth even more energy than twenty years earlier,
and himself making excellent times on the famous Kloster course.
The length of an ordinary steel-skeleton (as the machine is now
called) is 4 ft. i in. over all at the top, length of each runner on the
ground 3 ft. 6 in., with spring of 10 millimMres, breadth from centre
to centre of runners 12 in., height (without the cushion) 5 in. Round
runners 16 millimetres thick. The runners are joined together above
by three steel bars. A cushioned board is laid on the top, made so
as to slide backwards or forwards at will. The top bars at the side
of the front of the machine are bound with leather to give a good j
grip for the hands. A man lying flat on the board should have I
his chin just on a level with the front bar, and his knees resting ^
on the projecting end of the cushioned platform. The rider wears 1
very thick cloth gloves, and pads on knees and elbows. Steel rakes
are screwed to his boots. They project round a steel toe-cap, and I
it is most important before beginning each run to see that this is j
firmly attached.
i
[This article has been read and approved by Mr. Bott, I
the well-known tobogganer, to whom I am indebted for perusing |
it.— E. Le B.] i
\
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THE GAMEKEEPER'S PROFESSION AS A
CAREER
BY F. W. MILLARD
The profession of gamekeeper is not exactly of the most lucrative
description, but for many reasons it has always held out attractions
to young men of all classes fond of the open air who find it difficult
to secure congenial employment in other walks of life. For all this,
keepers born, bred, and trained to the calling have never had to
face serious competition from other than their own circle ; and as
head keepers necessarily train their under-men, it stands to reason
that they occupy the unique position of being able to dictate who
shall and who shall not be initiated into the mysteries of their
calling. Into no other profession is it so difficult to obtain an
insight ; for a gamekeeper, to assure success, needs to be coached by
a competent man in charge of an estate where game preservation
is carried on. There are no other means of obtaining the necessary
knowledge. A man intent on becoming a keeper may consider it
sufficient to serve an apprenticeship on an up-to-date game farm,
but there he can learn only the rearing of pheasants and their
management in confinement, and leaves as ignorant as ever of the
multitudinous duties which a trained keeper is expected to perform,
the principal of which are the trapping of vermin, the care and
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THE GAMEKEEPER'S PROFESSION AS A CAREER 157
training of dogs, the organisation of shooting parties, and last, but
not least, how to comport himself towards gentlemen in the field.
Some years ago the question of the employment of gentlemen
gamekeepers became a topic of serious discussion in a leading
sporting journal, and the strongest argument advanced in their
favour seemed to be that a man of education ought naturally to
bring to bear upon the performance of his duties an acumen gene-
rally lacking in the case of an uneducated man. The subject was
dealt with from every point of view except that of the practical
keeper, who, it is to be presumed, was content to stand aside and
laugh at even the idea of "gentlemen" gamekeepers. In fact, in
that word rests the crux of the whole question ; for it is seldom a
keeper who answers to that description can forget that he has been
born and bred a gentleman, and is willing to turn to and do the hard
and often disagreeable work which falls to the lot of every keeper,
whatever the nature of his charge. To be a success he must sink
the gentleman and never forget that he is a servant ; in this he will
find rests his greatest trouble.
There is not the slightest reason why an educated man should
not become a keeper, granted that he likes the life, is healthy and
strong, and able to content himself in so humble a sphere ; if he
is willing to sink all ambition he will find much to be thankful for,
even as a keeper, and as a reward there is always the satisfaction
which never fails to follow upon a duty well performed. In the
keeper's profession there is plenty of room for brains and education,
but not the slightest for what is vulgarly but expressively termed
" side." If he cannot shake himself free of this the gentleman
keeper will never be a success, and he must not lose sight of the
fact that what would certainly not be described as "side" in a
gentleman might be given a worse name in the case of a keeper.
If a man of education is able to dismiss all social aspirations and is
satisfied to allow his duties to absorb his whole attention, he will
find life go very pleasantly as a keeper.
There is no disputing the fact that gentlemen keepers have so
far not been a marked success, and it may be because they start in
entirely the wrong way. For one thing, the men who turn attention
to this mode of earning a living too often do so as a last resort ; but
failures at everything else are hardly likely to succeed even as game-
keepers, and it is scarcely the right thing to base an opinion of
gentlemen keepers upon that measure of success which has so far
attended their efforts.
It is of little use for a man to decide to be a keeper when he
has already tried and failed at half a dozen other things, for the
probability is he will already be considerably advanced in years and
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158 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
have lost what may be styled adaptability. He must start young,
or he will lack the enterprise and enthusiasm required to carry him
through the lower grades of the calling and to enable him to brave
their difficulties. Disgust is more likely to arise in the case of a
man of thirty-five than in that of one of twenty. A man must first
rid himself of an idea that an all-round knowledge of sport is
sufficient to warrant his undertaking the responsibilities of a keeper.
If he starts with this opinion he will quickly discover his mistake.
He may be a proficient shot, and understand how to handle and
use a^gun ; but this comes under the head of the destruction of game,
and the aim of every keeper is its production. Also, he must not
take up a keeper's work with the belief that he will get any amount
of sport, for such is by no means the case if sport with him means
unlimited shooting. Shooting he will get, of a sort and to a certain
extent, but if he considers the gun the principal tool he will have to
use he will not long hold a place. If he expects leniency in this
regard because he is a gentleman, and possibly of social status equal
to his employer, he will not obtain it ; for a too free use of a gun is an
oifence no employer will condone in any keeper. The keeper's work
is to provide sport, not take it, and it is because he does not properly
grasp this point that the gentleman keeper fails. Of course, a keeper
does get plenty of sport, but it is extracted from the trapping of
vermin, snaring of rabbits, etc., and what he derives from the gun is
really not worth consideration.
It is perfectly possible to be a servant and a gentleman, for there
are many such, although they may lack education and accomplish-
ments ; but the chief stumbling-block of the gentleman keep^er is that
he cannot forget his social status. This leads him into all sorts
of difficulties. First of all he is apt to feel aversion to his helpers,
who are ordinary under-keepers, and, although trained and com-
petent men (perhaps to a far greater extent than himselQ, inclined
to take what he considers liberties. These men have been accus-
tomed to work beneath the direction of an ordinary head keeper,
whose relations with them have been characterised by chumminess,
and they resent the superior airs adopted by their present chief.
This difficulty he would overcome in time by treating his assistants
firmly and kindly ; but he too often gets rid of the lot, and engages
in their stead men similar to himself. Now, if a trained head
keeper is unable to dispense with the services of trained men, it is
certain a chief lacking a life's experience cannot. The latter may
replace the bond-fide keepers by engaging men with whom he is able
to associate ; but can he be sure that they will be as efficient at their
work, and is it not likely that beneath their care the estate will
quickly deteriorate as regards game ?
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THE GAMKKEEPER'S PROFESSION AS A CAREER 159
Many sportsmen object to a gentleman keeper because they feel
the impossibility of treating him as a servant, and have no desire to
receive him as an equal. When a servant is required they prefer to
engage one who will be a servant in every particular, and not
presume on a past position. If a gentleman keeper attempts this he
will soon be voted a nuisance. A servant he is, and must be, and no
intermediate position is satisfactory to both parties. If a gentleman
requiring such a post is fortunate enough to secure an engagement as
keeper he is apt to become dispirited by the harshness with which he
is treated by those above him. This occurs because they anticipate
that he may presume, and measures are adopted to check the slightest
advance in that direction. In such a case his relations with his em-
ployer may never reach the free and easy state which generally marks
those of a gentleman and an ordinary keeper.
A gentleman keeper must also be extremely careful with regard
to his relations with tenant farmers. These most of all resent the
slightest inclination towards superiority on his part, and will mani-
fest that resentment in an exceedingly unpleasant manner. Usually
the tenantry upon an estate look upon the head keeper as their social
inferior, and if the gentleman keeper is conscious of a similar tendency
he had best grin and bear it for the sake of his game. If he is careful,
relations will soon improve, and he will gain amongst the farmers
many firm and valued friends.
His duty to both his employer and assistants is not only to
direct the latter, but actually to work with them. Get rid of the
impression that a head keeper really enjoys an easy time directing
the doings of others, for a lot of the hard and dirty work falls to his
share, and for many reasons must receive his personal attention. If
he shirks, things are sure to go wrong. As a too free use of the
gun often lands a gentleman keeper in trouble with his employer, so
does a mistaken idea of what his horse is provided for. A horse is
to take the keeper about the estate more speedily, and not to take him
off it on every occasion. It may seem hard lines to be compelled to
hold a horse back when hounds leave a covert at full speed on the
trail of a fox, but a keeper's duty does not lie with the pack; it is his
to remain behind and see that his woods are clear of the roughs who
are always glad to make a visit of hounds an excuse for entering.
If a man of good breeding and education is desirous of being a
keeper, and a successful keeper at that, there is nothing for it but to
begin on the lowest rung of the ladder, and while gradually working
up accumulate the knowledge necessary to his purpose. This will
necessitate his starting as an assistant on an estate, where he must
make up his mind to serve faithfully and obey the head keeper ; he
cannot escape closely associating with the other under-men, and it is
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hoped will soon recognise the folly of despising those from whom he
must learn. Should any of them be low-minded it will be better for
him to use his influence in reforming them rather than adopt the
doubtful course of ignoring them. For a time he must be content
with their company, and seek to drown all feelings of antipathy in
continual attention to duty. With a firm purpose in this direction
he will eventually earn their respect. A dandy he should never be ;
there is a vast difference between this and scrupulous neatness and
cleanliness, and if he is required to wear livery, let him strive to wear
it with a dignity such as it has never been worn with before. If he
regards his livery as a soldier does his uniform — that is, as something
never to be disgraced — he is not likely to be ashamed of wearing it.
Should a man of good breeding succeed as a keeper he will enjoy
the satisfaction of being independent of others for support, will lead
a healthy life, and feel that he is doing his duty, even if he does
occupy but a minor position. Wealthy he is not likely to be, but a
competence may be saved against old age. The best position he can
secure is that of head keeper on a big, well-preserved estate, and this
even only yields a moderate salary. It may be sufficient for his own
needs, but he will be wise not to induce a lady of his previous circle
to share it with him. Such a step will surely lead to untold misery
both to her and him. He may not chafe at his position, but such a
wife most assuredly will.
The writer of the foregoing has had much experience of keepers,
well-bred, educated, and otherwise, and a perusal of what is here set
forth may serve to prevent many a young man from attempting a
calling for which he is not fitted, while it may encourage those of
the right sort to go in and win.
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WELL OVER !
HUNTING IN THE SHIRES ON NOTHING
A YEAR
BV LILIAN E. BLAND
1
.1.
For some time one of my ambitions had been to ride for a good
English dealer in the Shires, but amongst all my "horsey" friends f.
I could find no one who knew such a dealer sufficiently for my
purpose. The Fates, however, were kind to me. One summer in
Worcestershire I met some hunting people; as it happened they ^]
knew Mr. Darby of Hillmorton very well, and gave me a letter of
introduction. I wrote stating the plain facts, that horses and
hunting were the only things I cared about, that I could not afford
these luxuries unless someone mounted me, and that I had been
schooling young horses for dealers in Ireland.
I sent this epistle off without the faintest hope of a favourable
answer, so my delight and astonishment can be imagined when I
heard by return that Mr. Darby would be pleased to mount me, but
that his horses were all trained hunters. I regarded this letter with
awe as a kind of ** spook " that might vanish, or turn into words of
polite refusal ; the luck seemed to be too good to be true, especially
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as my hunting friend, never having seen me ride, very naturally
refused to say anything about my qualifications.
Still meditating on my good fortune, I went off to play Bridge
with some friends staying at the hotel, and as we were talking in
the gardens a fussy motor whizzed up, and half in fun I said that I
would like to "hold it up" and go over to Rugby. A lady of the
party asked me if I really would hold up a strange car, and I laugh-
ingly told her that I had done so more than once in Ireland, where-
upon she vanished into the house, returning a few minutes afterwards
calmly to announce that, liking unconventional people, she had
asked the owner of the machine to take me to Rugby ; he said he
would be delighted, and they were waiting for me to start. In
MY FIRST HUNTER, TUGBLA LASSIE, 1ST PRIZE CLONMBL SHOW
another five minutes I was whizzing along with three unknown
companions towards the goal of my ambitions. The chauifeur was
youthful and reckless, he had only just learnt to handle a motor,
and wanted to show off her paces, which he did at the rate of
forty miles an hour. It was a most exciting drive entirely ; only a
special providence kept the car right side up, and ourselves inside it.
All went well, however, until we had passed Rugby, when the
machine broke down hopelessly, and as I was not far from Hillmor-
ton I walked on, interviewed Mr. Darby, and was shown some of the
horses — beautiful types of well-bred, compact weight-carriers, up to
14 stone and over, standing on an average 16.1 h., although one
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HUNTING IN THE SHIRES ON NOTHING A YEAR. 163
did not realise their height, they were such grand make and shape ;
a well-made polo pony turned into a 16 h. hunter best describes the
type of the majority. They were a pleasure to look at, and, as I have
since discovered, a pleasure to ride, which is not always the case
with good-looking animals ; but Mr. Darby will never buy a hunter
unless it has perfect mouth and manners, and these qualities added
to the type of horse that fills his stables have justly given him the
reputation of turning out the best hunters in the Shires.
Four months later saw me ensconced in my rooms at Rugby,
feeling, I must own, a trifle lonely and *' Ireland sick," though my
spirits were somewhat revived by the landlady giving me peat to
burn, for the smell was joy to my nose. In the interval of three days
HOUNDS SWIMMING A RIVER
before my first hunt I made my sitting-room presentable; and having
cleared out dozens of horrible ornaments, I found stowed away in an
old cupboard some beautiful china — old blue, Sevres, and Wedgwood;
also a Chippendale table, and some old silver ; so that my time was
pleasantly occupied in cleaning them up.
My first hunt was with the Atherstone at Newbold Revel. I had
meekly requested to be put *' up " on something that would teach me
the timber trade, and was mounted on a big brown mare up to any
weight. As I ride 9 st. 6 lb. with the saddle, etc., thrown in, I am not
quite sure she realised there was anyone in the saddle.
The first objects that struck my attention going to the meet
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were numerous little red boards, which I learnt spelt " wire." At the
meet the big crowd rather alarmed me ; but thank heaven they do
not ride like an Irish field, or there would be none of them left alive
to tell the tale.
The small regiment of grooms carrying their respective owners'
lunches, some of them top-hat, cockaded infants, looked really too
ridiculous in the hunting field. Of course in Ireland we do not have
second and third horsemen chivvying us round the country; we are
more like Mr. Snaffle. ** * How many sound *osses have you ? *
' None, sir,' replied Snaffle, confidently. * How many three-legged
'uns have you that can go, then ? ' ' Oh, a good many ; that's to say
two and three legged 'uns, at least.' 'Ah, well,' said Watchorn,
A GOOD TYPE— BOUGHT FOR /■4OO
* that'll do — two legs are too many for some of the rips they'll
have to carry.' " One also missed the friendly chaff and banter, horse
coping, and cheery greeting; even when men in the Shires shoot
over their horses' heads they do it in a polite ceremonious fashion,
without "language" apparently. How John Watson would make
them sit up !
It is sometimes long odds against getting a good start, especially
if the only way out of the field happens to be a narrow gateway.
I was of course very keen to see the country and fences, having had
extremely vague replies to my questions on the subject. One
M.F.H. told me that ''any fool could ride in the Shires." Cer-
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HUNTING IN THE SHIRES ON NOTHING A YEAR. 165
tainly ignorance is bliss on a good horse, and one often sees people
who know nothing about the game going well more by luck than
anything else ; but as a rule a few falls soon sober their enthusiasm.
I imagine, however, that the Master referred to the lines of gates,
although gate-opening seems to be an art in itself; personally I
cordially detest gates unless some kind person is holding them open,
and one happens to be the first through, in which case you can
think ** Now we'll all start fair, you tinkers ! *' knowing that it will
take at least five minutes for the crowd behind to extricate them-
selves from a bumping mass.
On the occasion of my first hunt we were all jammed into a
narrow road, hounds opened in covert at once, and a feeble " toot "
LAMDIN3 OVER A BULLFINCH
announced the " gone away '* (very different from the blood-curdling
screams of the Tipps). A regular stampede followed, sounding like the
thunder of an avalanche, and one got carried along, feeling as help-
less as the pigs possessed of the devil, and by the time one got clear
of the crowd hounds were racing three fields ahead with a scent
they could eat.
Small thorn hedges, a few with a ditch, were the order of the
day, and I made my first acquaintance with ridge and furrow, which
is like plunging over a choppy sea ; one also had to steer through
innumerable ant-heaps and mole-hills ; and although the country
rode wonderfully light, it is harder work riding than it is in Ireland,
chiefly, I suppose, because the fields are bigger and the fences are
jumped bigger. One is galloping all the time; it is not a case of
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pulling back to a trot or walk to '* negotiate " them, and of course
the hounds with a good scent are much faster. With one short
check crossing the railway they ran to ground a seven-mile point
in 45 min.
A good authority told me that only lo per cent, of the crowd
really ride to hounds ; and, as some wise person remarked, there is
always plenty of room in front. If one can escape the numerous
railways and canals it is a glorious country to ride over on a good
horse; a bad one I should think would be useless, as the fences
take some jumping. Not a few of the thorn hedges are very blind
and straggly, and one requires a clean, bold fencer who will not
only jump big but jump on ; clean timber in the shape of rails, and
what I believe are called binders, seem to be the typical fences. In
YOUNG HORSE JUMPING TOO BIG FOR THE FENCE
a fast hunt with the Pytchley from Shawell Wood we had a most
pernicious line of timber, and people were falling with crashes at
every fence. One uninviting obstacle consisted of a wide ditch, a
bank riddled with rabbit holes, with a binder hedge on the top, and
I was delighted to see the horse in front sit down on the hedge,
which took the starch out of it nicely. Two gallant " craners," if
I may use the expression, galloping at the fence both swerved into
the ditch on top of each other.
One sees many amusing incidents, and it is extraordinary how
some people will follow anyone who is galloping, with no idea of
where the hounds are. The other day I had just changed on to a
fresh horse; hounds were away on a screaming scent soon afterwards.
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HUNTING IN THE SHIRES ON NOTHING A YEAR. 167
All went well at first until I let my steed out over a big field, when I
discovered there was a difference of opinion between us. The only
jumpable place was blocked by four or five people waiting their turn
to get over, and not wishing to be had up for their premature decease,
I was obliged to pull off and charge downhill, with my back to
hounds. Three or four men, evidently not hearing the language I
was talking to my horse, turned and followed ! Having finally
pulled up on the top of a hill, I was rewarded with a bird's-eye view
of the hunt. The hounds were hunting beautifully by themselves,
and the proverbial sheet might really have covered them. The sur-
rounding fields in all directions were dotted with scarlet and black
coated sportsmen, and they must have spread out over several miles
of country.
A BOLD jumper; THIS WAS A BLIND FBNCB AT LBAST 6 FT. HIGH
The Hillmorton Brook also affords plenty of amusement.
It is not wider than a Meath drain, but the sides are rather
soft, and some time after the hounds and most of the field had ^
crossed it a head and shoulders were visible above the bank. A
horse had gone in, refused to jump out the right side and continue,
and the effect was very quaint. At the same brook, which we
crossed the other day with the North Warwick, a man had an
extraordinary escape from a nasty accident. His horse jumped on
to a pole that was sticking up in the ground on the landing side ;
the pole was five feet long, and it went between the animal's fore
legs, through the martingale, and out through the girths. The
NO. cxxvii. VOL. 7LX11,— February 1906 M
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rider got a fearful shock, because he thought the rest of the pole
had staked the horse through ; fortunately both came off scatheless.
Rugby is a good hunting centre, four packs generally being
within easy distance. The winter so far has been wonderfully mild ;
scent good on the whole, with very few bad days. I can only wish
I saw thee change, yet still relied.
Still clung with hope the fonder.—/. Moore,
HORSB HAS JUST COMB OVER A BANK
I
I the same good luck to other impecunious sportsmen, and give them
I Lindsay Gordon's toast : —
I Here's a health to every sportsman, be he stableman or lord ;
If his heart be true I care not what his pocket may afford ;
And may he ever pleasantly each gallant sport pursue,
! If he takes his liquor fairly, and his fences fairly too.
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MOTORING IN FRANCE
BY H. B. MONEY-COUTTS
Havre quay at seven o'clock on a fine summer morning.
There is always something infinitely refreshing in arriving
anywhere when the day is still young. There are few things more
delightful, for instance, than, after a hot and dusty night in the
train, to step out upon the apology for a platform of some little
station up in the mountains, to breathe cool, sweet air once more,
and take a delicious drink of aromatic cafe an lait ; and how
pleasant is the consciousness that all cares and worries are left in
England, and that all one's business is to enjoy the sunshine, and
revel in the charm of novel sights and sounds !
We landed at once, leaving " Clementina " in charge of the
faithful Frederick, as the tide would not allow of her being put
ashore for another four hours. Frederick is a youth of the most
supreme imperturbability and cheerfulness. We never can make out
whether his attitude to Clementina is that of a lover for his mistress,
or of a worshipper for his goddess ; but, anyhow, the two are
inseparable, and the result of his unremitting attentions is undeniably
excellent.
At eleven o'clock we strolled down to the quay, and found the
process of disembarkation in full swing. It was very carefully done,
and there was none of that ostentatious hanging around for tips
that has become such a nuisance at certain English ports.
Our permis de conduire and perntis de circulation held good from
last year, so there were no ceremonies to perform, and within
twenty minutes of landing we were bowling through the paved
M 2
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streets of Havre. What a difference there is between motoring in
England and in France ! In France even a tramp steps briskly to
one side at the sound of the horn, the farm cart is almost always
on its proper side, or, if not, makes all haste to get there ; the very
chickens stay not upon the order of their going, but go quickly,
perhaps because all the laggards have long since been run over.
One is free from the haunting fear of police traps, which gather into
their net the reckless and the cautious alike ; the signboards are
frequent and legible ; the danger marks are placed where they are
wanted, and nowhere else.
The road to Kouen is very charming, especially where it runs
along the winding Seine. Our day's run was without incident, save
for a puncture, the work of a wicked black nail. As we pulled up
on a flat tyre, a big car coming in the opposite direction did the
same thing — punctured too. There was a great race as to who
should get off again first, and they won by a few seconds ; our
tyres were a new set, and the rims uncommonly stiff.
The next day was Sunday, and we spent it in wandering about
lovely Rouen. What a wealth of wonderful buildings one finds
there ! Saint-Maclou or Saint-Ouen alone would make the place
famous, and the cathedral is a sheer superfluity of beauty.
Next morning we bade an affectionate farewell to the pleasant
city, and pulled out of it up the long hill before you come to
Pont de TArche. On through Louviers and Evreux, and then over
that most marvellous straight road between Evreux and Nonancourt.
Mile after mile it runs as though drawn with a ruler ; the car
seemed to go to sleep upon the satin surface, and snored like a
gigantic humming top ; the rich corn land on either side rushed by
and vanished into a golden distance, no villages occurring to break
the spell.
Where do they all dwell, the tillers of these wonderful plains ?
At rare intervals one sees a tiny village that appears lost in this
fruitful wilderness, but great distances must be covered by the
labourers in their journeyings to and from their work. One seemed
to be in a magic land where a kindly power has caused the seed to
sow itself, and the harvest to fall down in swathes uncut by the
hand of man.
At Dreux, the H6tel du Paradis proved worthy of the fork after
its name in the Annuaire de Route, and provided a capital lunch.
The midday meal at a small French inn is a very different affair
from lunch at an English hostel. In England one solemnly eats
cold beef and cheese amidst an arctic silence, and frequently there
are no other guests. In France the meal is always hot, often
elaborate, usually good, and the room is invariably full. Monsieur
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MOTORING IN FRANCE 171
le Cur6 is generally there, and there is sure to be at least one
prodigiously stout Frenchwoman who makes one wonder if the
innkeeper subsidises her as an advertisement of his fare. Most of
the local celebrities come in for their dejeuner, and all is "smiles,
good humour, and jollity." The French are a bonhomous nation.
After lunch there was a little trouble owing to one of the pins
which hold the springs in position on the top of the coil breaking,
but a brass nail was trimmed down into a perfectly efficient
substitute.
We ran slowly through Chartres, thinking it looked too inter-
LANDING AT HAVRE
esting a place to pass by, but we had no time to make a stop there,
and ran on into Orleans over the worst bit of road we encountered
at all, though the wayside heaps of stones gave a promise of future
improvement.
At Orleans we talked about Joan of Arc, and went to the big
Place to see her statue, and the cleverly carved low reliefs of
different episodes in her career. Little of old Orleans is left, and
the cathedral is not very interesting. A fine morning brought us
next day to the tiny inn at Bonny-sur- Loire by lunch time, a strange
little place where they fed us on sardines and goat's meat, in a
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beautifully clean kitchen with a tiled floor and oak furniture. In the
afternoon our way lay through Cosne and La Charity to Pougues-
les-eaux, just beyond which the spires of Nevers appear in the blue
distance. Our hotel at Nevers was distinguished neither by a
"fork" nor a "bed" in the Annuaire (I should explain that a fork
means good cooking and a bed good rooms), but in spite of that
both proved excellent.
Nevers is a quaint old town with high houses and narrow
streets, the usual proportion of old churches, and a very beautiful
cathedral with a double apse.
The radiator had sprung a leak during the day at the union of
the pipe which carries the hot water to the carburettor jacket, and it
was necessary to find a mechanician and a soldering iron. I was
afraid at the time that he had not made a very good job of it, and
sure enough next morning the leak became worse than ever about
ten miles out from Moulins. Also a valve spring broke and had to
be replaced, and we were all in a discontented frame of mind when
we reached the town. A good lunch made matters assume a better
aspect, and we found a first-rate repairing shop where a really good
joint was made. It was a matter for brazing, though, aqd took
time. The workmen about the place softly crooned quaint songs
over their work, one of them singing second very harmoniously,
while a whirring dynamo outlined the bass. The delay did not seem
very long; it is difficult to feel bored where men are singing and
machinery is working, but the afternoon was already old as we
hauled out of Moulins on the Lyon road. At La Palisse we began
to get into the hills, and the kilometres no longer vanished into the
Never Never with the same rapidity as heretofore. In this cramped
country of ours a run of 150 miles is quite a long day's journey, but
in the north of France it is an easy one. If a car will average
twenty miles an hour in England on an ordinary high road, say the
London and Portsmouth road, you may be certain she will average
thirty with ease in the north and west of France.
We stopped for a few minutes at Roanne for petrol and a cup
of coffee, and decided to push on for Lyon, though it was beginning
to get dark. Roanne appeared to be a most unattractive spot, just
an ugly manufacturing town. The road by St. Symphorien and
L'Arbresle is a very hilly one indeed, with as many twists and turns
as a Gordon Bennett course, but it soon became too dark to see all
its beauty, whereat we cursed our Nevers mechanic. Finally we
arrived in Lyon at about nine o'clock. Next morning it poured
with rain, so we stayed where we were, but as it cleared up in the
afternoon we routed out Clementina from her garage to take us
about the town. After duly admiring the cathedral we dived into
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MOTORING IN FRANCE 173
some back streets in the direction of the junction of the Rhone and
Saone, and promptly caught a puncture — another nail.
Now I dislike running on the rim if it can possibly be avoided,
so Frederick proceeded to put in a new tube, although the street we
were in was not a savoury one. There had been no one about when
we stopped, but a most evil-looking crowd gathered in a minute or
two to watch the operation. Just as the tube emerged from the
cover a nice-looking young piou-piou — one of the few respectable
members of the crowd, edged up to me and whispered a warning,
with a significant look at the ring of unwashed faces round us. I
possessed myself of an enormous file, as thick as a belaying-pin —
a fancy tool which I always carry — and stood on guard while
Frederick put in another tube. Nothing happened, but I am not
at all sure they would not have rushed us if I had been engaged in
helping with the tyre.
We went on to the junction of the rivers; surely there is no
more beautiful city in France than Lyon, with its rivers, its bridges,
and its towering heights.
On next day to Annecy ; first of all a straight flat road to
Bourgoin, with the mountains gradually coming nearer to you ; then
by La Tour de Pin, where we lunched. Two big cars arrived while
we were waiting for our omelette, one of them from Switzerland,
where we gathered that the language of the peasants at the sight of
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174 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
a passing car was " frequent and painful and free," but that the
cases of actual molestation have been much exaggerated.
In the afternoon we were in the hills once more, and having
plenty of time did a little fern-hunting in the rocky banks of the
road close to Les Echelles. It is sad to have to add that the
ferns never reached England. If some horticulturally-minded post-
man has planted them in his back garden, I hope they will turn
into the rankest weeds. Just beyond the little town the road
burrows through the mountain in a tunnel 200 yards long — an
unpleasant place, dark and slippery and wet. Then through Cham-
b^ry to Aix-les-Bains, all along the lovely Lac du Bourget. In this
part of the world we met many other cars, including the most out-
rageous party of road-hogs, who came along through the suburbs
of Chamb^ry in what looked like a 70-horse Merc^d^s at a very
great pace, with two horns going, and everyone in the car shouting
at the top of his voice. But during the whole of our journeyings
this was the only flagrant case of dangerous driving we saw.
Going down the steep hill into Annecy one of the expanding
brake-bands broke with a crack. The other one held however, and
with that and the foot-brake she was under perfectly good control,
though of course in was inadvisable to use the side brake for fear
of damaging the wheel and tyre which had to take all the strain of
the remaining band. The broken ends were riveted together when
we got to Geneva — quite a satisfactory job that lasted perfectly well
until we returned to England.
We stayed the night at Annecy, and came to the conclusion
that the inhabitants had determined in some past epoch of history
to combine in their town what was most picturesque of all the
picturesque towns in Europe. So they made a castle on a high
rock, like Edinburgh, and brought waterways to their front doors,
like the Venetians, and built their houses upon great arches, with
the path under them, like Chester, and chose to have a very lovely
lake near by, like Geneva, and mountains all round about, like
Innsbruck. The only thing which seemed purely Annecian was the
smell of the '* Rows " (to borrow a word from Chester). We agreed
that we had never smelt anything quite so amazing, even in the
water slums of Venice.
Next day we started for Switzerland, and were caught in a
deluge of rain up in the hills. It was so heavy that we were
obliged to pull up and sit under our Cape-cart hood till the weather
cleared a little. The question of how to protect a car against the
weather is a very difficult one. In really wet times nothing of
course is so nice as a regular brougham body, with a projecting top
and a glass window covering the front seats. But the weight of
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MOTORING IN FRANCE 175
such a body is very considerable, and undoubtedly slows a car of
medium horse-power by a good mady miles an hour, not to mention
the increased wear on the tyres. A Cape hood is of little use when
the car is moving, unless it has a celluloid flap to let down in front,
and such a window never lasts for long, as the stuff will not stand
much hard usage. One undoubtedly sees far more cars with landau
or landaulette bodies now than one did a couple of years ago;
it appears that ladies are beginning to strike against being buffeted
in an open car by rain and wind. But for all that I am inclined
to think that the best plan is to have just an ordinary open car.
CHATEAU AT ANNSCY
whether tonneau or side entrance, and to cover oneself in cunningly-
made sack mackintoshes, unless one is prepared for heavy petrol
and tyre bills. An ordinary Cape hood, however, is very useful in
case of a heavy deluge which obviously will not last long, and it is
cosy to sit comfortably in the dry, with the engine just ticking away
to itself, until the rain is over.
We had quite a difficulty with the old fogey who presides over
the French douane at La Caille ; he did not appear to have seen an
Automobile Club customs guarantee before, and could not grasp
that we wanted his signature in order to prove that we had left
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176 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
France, and so were entitled to a return of the money deposited
with the club. He looked at the paper right way up, wrong way
up, and finally smelt it ! He was a perfectly civil old person, but
should have been pensioned off years ago. However, we finally
persuaded him to sign, and trundled on over the lofty suspension
bridge that spans the gorge of the Grandes Usses, into the neutral
zone between France and Switzerland.
The officials were very civil at the Swiss frontier, opening
nothing, and half an hour later we were in Geneva. Here we
stayed a few days, making various expeditions round about. The
Swiss roads are not up to much, but what does that matter in a
land where in spite of Cookites and Lunnites almost every prospect
still pleases ? Man is becoming very vile, though, if the stories one
hears of railways up Mont Blanc and searchlights on the top are
true.
We started on our homeward journey in a gentle drizzle, run-
ning along by the lake as far as Nyon ; thence sharp round to the
left and up into the hills. If anyone wishes to test a car for its hill-
climbing capacities let him take it over the road between Nyon and
La Cure. The gradient is steep enough to bring a 20 h.p. car to its
second speed, and there is no break in the ascent for miles and miles,
while the corners for the most part form acute angles. We had
been advised to follow the alternative but longer road through Gex,
but hill-climbing is a strong point of Clementina's, and she never
overheats. My trust in her was not disappointed, and we arrived at
the douane at La Cure a little in front of a much more powerful car
which had left Geneva before us by the more usual road.
The Swiss official in charge signed my leaving souchc for me
without demur, but we expected a little bother at the French fron-
tier, as we had omitted to arm ourselves with any documents of re-
entry. However "Souche III." signed by our old friend at La
Caille proved that we had not recovered our deposited money as
yet, and after a little conversation we were allowed to proceed. For
the advice of those about to travel I may here remark that French
roadside customs houses are always shut up between 12 and 2, while
the douanier has his dejeuner, and nothing is more annoying than to
have to wait for hours in a grubby little village while Monsieur le
douanier is taking his nap.
The road now ran downhill for some miles into Morez. We
were stopped by a man just outside the town, whom I took to be an
octroi official ; he asked to see my " passavant *' ; I did not quite
catch what he said, and thinking it was the usual question at the
octroi — " Vous avez quelque chose k declarer ? " and that he was
running through the list of dutiable articles, I made answer, " Non,
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MOTORING IN FRANCE 177
nous n'avons pas de savon/' thinking what a dirty town Morez must
be to discourage the importation of soap, and resolving that our
modest cakes of that article should not be taxed if I could help it.
My answer appeared to infuriate the poor man, and he forthwith
haled me before his superior officer, a kindly person who after a few
minutes' talk told his subordinate to go away and not make any more
betises. It appeared that this was another douane, and not an
octroi.
Two roads meet just at this point, one from La Cure and one
from Saint-Claude ; and if you come by the latter road this is the
ANOTHER VIEW IN ANNECY
first douane you find. The man on watch had orders not to stop
cars coming from La Cure — I suppose he had been asleep. My
friend was highly entertained at the " pas savon " mistake, and
explained that a ** passavant " was a document which could be used
instead of the club papers for franking you through the customs and
generally making your path easy.
It was pouring with rain by the time we reached St. Laurent,
and we were caught in a very heavy thunderstorm, on some bare
open land near Champagnole. So violent was the lightning that it
seemed discreet to leave the car for a few minutes and take refuge
under a friendly bank. Clementina was the most prominent object
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178 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
in the landscape, and we preferred her room to her company till the
worst was over. I have never heard of a car being struck, and am
told that the rubber tyres are a sufficient protection, which I beg
leave to doubt, inasmuch as wet rubber cannot form a perfect
insulation.
This road must be very beautiful on a fine day ; at one place in
particular, I think between Poligny and D6le, you look out from a
window in the hills upon all the plains of France. We reached
Dijon before dark, glad to be in out of the wet, but sorry that our
hill-climbing was over.
Clementina was in a terrible mess that night when we got in,
Wind, rain, and mud defeat almost any mudguards. However,
Frederick brought her out like a new pin in the morning, and we
started for Troyes looking very spick and span, in marked contrast
to certain other cars which had arrived from Paris the night before,
and which had obviously not been touched by their mechanicians.
I fear some proud professionals think it is beneath their dignity to
wash their car. Yet a dirty car invariably means trouble eventually.
That day we had a wayside lunch and watched the eclipse ; all
the peasants and villagers seemed to be keeping holiday in honour
thereof, and to be taking an immense amount of interest in the
phenomenon.
At Bar-sur-Seine we overtook a long column of blue-coated
infantry, and Troyes was full of troops concentrating for the
manoeuvres. A general of division and his staff were putting up at
our hotel, and made an extremely gay party at dinner. We did
not think that the general obtained the same amount of outward
deference as would his English opposite number, and next morning
his staff seemed to leave him unattended and alone. Autre paySy
autres mceurs — a little starch more or less is not of much impor-
tance. From our window we watched the regiments swinging
along the narrow quaint old street. No one, I suppose, looks upon
conscription as aught but a necessary evil ; yet the manhood of a
nation in arms is a soul-stirring sight. Soldierly-looking men they
were, of good physique and bearing.
We ran to Coulommiers that morning, leaving the Paris road
at Provins. The cross-country roads are only tolerable as a rule,
and are certainly no better than our own as far as surface goes.
Our way in the afternoon lay through beautiful forests, and we
found in Pierrefonds the enchanted castle of our dreams. Its walls
and towers and pinnacles must surely have inspired Mr. Albert
Goodwin in some of his finest imaginings. One would be almost
frightened to take a child into Compiegne Forest. Its lofty trees,
its gloom, its weird tidiness — there is no undergrowth — its immen-
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MOTORING IN FRANCE lyg
sity, produce a strange feeling of uneasiness and unreality. Weir-
wolves and hob-goblins no longer appear impossibilities, and in fancy
one can see apes and bears, with horrid pink eyes and ugly snouts,
glowering at one from behind the dark tree-trunks ! I think
Mr. Lewis Carroll must have made the acquaintance of the
Jabberwock in Compi^gne Forest.
We found a most comfortable inn at Compiegne, and made a
short run of it next morning into Amiens. Thence, next day, in a
tempest of wind and rain, through Abbeville and Montreuil to
Boulogne, where we took ship for England.
GENEVA ON SUNDAY MORNING
Clementina was on her very best behaviour coming home. We
came right through from Geneva without a single involuntary stop,
without even a puncture.
It is always surprising to me to find so many people in this
country who own cars, who love motoring, and who have plenty of
time of their own, but who have never taken their car abroad.
Many of them go to Scotland in their cars in August, and speak of the
performance with bated breath for the next twelve months ; and
indeed it is quite arguable that a hundred miles in England contain
more danger than five hundred in France. To begin with, one is
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i8o THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
always liable to be held up by those licensed footpads the police ;
our ancestors must have felt much the same with regard to highway-
men as the modern traveller by road feels about the guardians — save
the mark — of the law. Doubtless they hoped, as we hope, with
ordinary luck to avoid molestation, and uttered much the same
complaints when caught. But they had the advantage in that in
their case it was all over very soon, and they were not liable to be
placed in a felon's dock for the edification of a bigoted bench
of thick-headed local nobodies ; moreover highwaymen were
occasionally caught and hanged. But it matters little after all.
The great roads across the Channel beckon to one. Smooth,
straight, enduring, they run through a kindly land where strangers
are sure of a welcome, where your c?Lr rejoices in her new freedom,
where inns are good and towns are beautiful. It may be that
England is too small, too overcrowded, that the police-trap is neces-
sary, and the anti-motor magisterial bench the embodiment of all
wisdom. The remedy is obvious and simple — how simple and easy
people who have not tried it do not realise : take your car and go
to France for a month.
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THE NEW LAIRD'S BAPTISM
BY CHARLES EDWARDES
** Now, mind you, Ferguson, I don't speak twice about a thing. It's
not my way. I shouldn't have three country houses, a Piccadilly
mansion, and, well, let's call it two millions of money — I shouldn't,
I say, be the man I am if I'd wasted my time like that. Pass my
instructions on to the other fellows — your brother keepers, that is.
I'll have no tourists or other folks in the neighbourhood fishing a
blamed one of my rivers. No, nor the small streams either — burns,
you call 'em, eh ? Do you grasp it ? "
Mr. Ferguson, the head keeper, was a gaunt, brown, six-foot
man, with a grey outstanding frill to his chin. An hour ago he
might have told you that there wasn't much in natural history to
surprise him ; at least, as regards the one-legged, two-legged, four-
legged, and cold-blooded no-legged creatures more or less freely to
be discovered in his glen and glens like his in the North. But that
was before he had been summoned to the presence of Mr. Curdling,
the new owner of Glen Sloch Lodge, with all its many appurtenant
miles, square and linear, of sporting rights.
He had been brought up with The M agin ton and worshipped
the Maginton tartan. When The Maginton came to grief and
Mr. Ferguson heard of it, he made a special journey to London to
talk it over with his beloved laird. And it says much for Ferguson
that, by his earnest pleading, he persuaded this madcap last of a
magnificent old Highland line of chiefs to think it possible he
could let everything go to his creditors without a regret, save only
Glen Sloch.
** Come and live in yer own land for the rest of yer time,
sir," Ferguson entreated his late and, up to then, his only laird.
**Awa' from the blastin' temptations of toons, ye'll do fine, sir.
There's the stags on the hills and the fesh in the streams, and I'll
tak' my oath o* one thing — there's no man of the glen that wudna
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i82 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
rather have his wages halved so he wass still under a Maginton.
Come here, laird, to the glen where ye wass born, and let troubles
just richt themselves by the blessin' o' God, whatever,"
But The Maginton couldn't do it. His creditors would have
been much amused by Ferguson's innocence. Mr. Curdling was
much amused when The Maginton, in recommending his head
keeper to the new lord of the glen, recounted this touching proof
of his fidelity. Mr. Curdling wouldn't, he said, have thought there
were such servants living in the twentieth century — he'd be hanged
if he would. He did a remarkable thing, however, in writing to
Ferguson and raising his wages fifty per cent, on the understanding
that Ferguson was to be as good a servant to him as he had,
presumably, been to The Maginton in the past.
" Are you listening to what I say, Ferguson ? " demanded
Mr. Curdling, impatiently. He had no sort of sympathy with
employees of his who gazed grey-eyed into space while he laid
down the law to them.
" Ay," said Ferguson, " I comprehend." He contemplated
Mr. Curdling now as if he were a hopeless retriever. " But, sir,
ye'll no be wishin* to close the Gisach Burn from Loch Beallach.
There's a bit story about it, and The Maginton did always say, and
his fathers before him, that the Gisach wass the Almighty's own
burn. It wass because of a great drought, sir, so it is related in a
book that I have read, and only the Gisach didna run dry. It
saved the cattle of the glen, sir. Master Colin — I'm meanin' my
late master, sir — he said he would be condemned eternally after
death (ye'll ken my meanin') if he'd ever stop a'body fishin' the
Gisach ; and it wass his father before him that blew up the rocks
with powder to let the salmons get into it for all the world to fesh
them. I wudna close the Gisach if I wass yerself, Mr. Curdling."
*'The Gisach! Which the devil is the Gisach?" exclaimed
Mr. Curdling, testily. "There are dozens of 'em on the estate,
and I don't know this from t'other. But never mind which it is.
I don't speak twice about a thing, as I just said. The Magintons
were no doubt a very respectable family, clan, or what you please to
call it ; but they're wiped out now, boot and cap. And with them
goes all such superstitious rot as that about one stream running on
for ever while all the rest dry up. I should think, for my part,
Ferguson " (and Mr. Curdling playfully grasped the lowest but one
button of Ferguson's waistcoat — it was level with his own chin),
"that this is the wettest patch on earth. The Flood may have
started here, but as for a drought — stuff! No free fishing at all,
remember. A warning first, and then just pitch the beggars into
the water. Refer 'em to me afterwards if it vexes them. I paid
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THE NEW LAIRD^S BAPTISM 183
one hundred and ninety-five thousand pounds for this glen, and I'm
doing what I please with it. And now I want to talk about the
stags and bucks and things. I've never shot anything bigger than
a hare in the South. You'll have to teach me a lot, you'll find."
Ferguson drew a long, deep breath, and seemed to shiver. Yet
it wasn't cold ; and he was in the lodge smoking-room, with a large
wood fire in the grate.
" Why the devil don't you speak, man ? " demanded Mr. Curd-
ling. " You're not deaf, are you ? I tell you I've got to be coached
about stalking and all that. Maginton says you're a jewel. Show
a little sparkle of some kind, if it's only to prove your late master
isn't a liar. I suppose you got very fond of him, eh ? "
Mr. Curdling put that question coaxingly.
"Fond, sir! Ay — ^just that," said Ferguson, after a pause.
He again contemplated Mr. Curdling during the pause. "And —
I'll ask ye to put another man in my place. I've done with the
glen after all."
" What's that ? "
"My resignation, sir. No, I canna do it, Mr. Curdling. I
willna stop. I — I've a daughter in Glasgow that I'll be gangin'
awa' to. I'm no that young myself, and maybe it's time I changed
my manner of life like Master Colin. The ways of the Lord are
past kennin', and what maun be maun be."
And then Mr. Curdling stepped down from his stilts. They
were so habitually an accessory to him that it was not easy, but he
did it. He had an instinctive appreciation of Ferguson as a local
man, and he needed a man to initiate him into the tricks of the
trade (so he termed it) as lord of a deer forest. He shouldn't think
of it. Of course he would respect all Ferguson's little fads and pre-
possessions. If Ferguson feared about the tips and so on, which no
■ doubt had come upon him as thick as Glen Sloch midges in the old
time, that should be made all right. Even an extra hundred pounds
on to the head keeper's income for a year couldn't hurt Mr. Curd-
ling; and Ferguson should have that. There wouldn't be any
shooting parties that season; Mr. Curdling didn't want to seem
quite a fool to his own guests. But next year, when he had got his
hand in, and could not only tell a stag from a hind, but maybe pot
one first shot — then things should hum profitably for Ferguson in
Glen Sloch.
" Come, my man, let's take it as settled that that nonsense
about your quitting is — shelved. At any rate for this season. I ask
it as a personal favour, Ferguson."
Ferguson gave way then. He could do no less, it seemed to
him.
NO. cxxvu. VOL, xxu-^Febriury 1906 N
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** It's no the money, sir, ye ken," he said.
"Of course not," said Mr. Curdling, with a worldly smile which
was not lost upon Ferguson.
" It's no the money, sir," repeated the head keeper, " but it
would wring my heart that a laird of Glen Sloch should have to be
taught the very rudiments of the craft by a'body but myself. It
wudna be decent for ye to be on the hills with a'body but myself,
sir, for awhile. I can see that. If I'm no respectful, I'll ask ye
to excuse me. And I'll be leaving ye the noo, sir."
Mr. Curdling swallowed this with difficulty, but he swallowed it.
Yes, and he let Ferguson go from his presence without a reproof.
He felt some fear of the great gaunt fellow, who looked as if he had
been weathered by prehistoric storms and sunshine, and stood so
unflatteringly erect and calm before him and his two millions of
money. He didn't inform Ferguson that there were other matters
to discuss. They might wait.
" But, hold hard a moment," he said, when Ferguson was at
the door, already bonneted — an insulting liberty that, whether due
to thoughtlessness or habit ! " About your holy burn ! I don't
change my mind when I've said a thing. It's closed to the public ;
and my orders are — drown all poachers. Well, say half-drown 'em,
and take their names afterwards. Good morning."
He gave Ferguson his back, and felt better.
And with a muttered '* Lord save us ! " Ferguson went from the
lodge which had in its day seen so much Maginton grandeur of
manliness — so the honest keeper rated it — mounted his pony, and
paced solemnly away.
It was a bitter task, but he did his duty to the letter that
morning. He rode slowly up the glen and gave all his subs their
instructions. They returned him nods for nods, and grim or less
grim smiles for his smiles, which were all of the far-away reflective
kind. They asked him what like the new laird was, being naturally
anxious, especially after such intelligence. But Ferguson preferred
to say little enough on that topic. They would soon be seeing him
for themselves. He wasna a Maginton. That was the most
Ferguson would say about Mr. Curdling.
Last of all, when he was again nearing his own quarters in the
lodge's precincts, he turned his sheltie's head up the glen of the
Gisach Burn. This attractive stream came down from a lonely
loch in the mountains, with red sand to its shores which the deer
foot--marked abundantly. It had pretty falls for a mile, and then
ran merrily into alternating dark pools and laughing lengths between
purpled banks until it lost itself in the greater Sloch River. Midway
in its course, some four miles from the lodge, was the house of
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THE NEW LAIRD'S BAPTISM 185
Peter Macdonald, another keeper. Peter was a comparatively new
importation. He was a rough and remote cousin of Ferguson's
from North Skye ; a silent, determined piece of natural man after
Ferguson's own heart. His one defect didn't matter greatly in
Glen Gisach. The fact that he had very little English had hitherto
not in the least detracted from his usefulness in a spot where there
was no one who hadn't the Gaelic.
Ferguson had no more to say to Macdonald about the new laird
than to the other men; but he was fiercely and ironically plain
about his remote cousin's particular responsibility.
" Look you', man," he said (but in Gaelic), " there is to be no
more free fishing in the Gisach. You are not even to behave your-
self like a Christian if you do find anyone throwing a fly in the
stream that has been open to all the world from the days of your
own great-great-grandmother; and that's the same as from the
beginning of time itself. Say to him * Go away ' first, and you may
tell him that an Englishman is now the master here. But perhaps
he will not go away. His father may have taken salmon in the
Gisach, ay and his father's father, and he shall tell you he is only
catching wee trouts no bigger than his thumb. It is all the same,
Peter Macdonald. You are not to stand arguing with him. It is
your duty now to be a different man to what you was when you
did come to the glen last October. Take him by the neck and an
arm, and throw him into the water. Drown him. Those are your
orders, man. Yes, you may stare. I do not wonder. It is not the
Scotland your father and I was born in."
" Drown 1 " stammered Peter Macdonald. " You do not mean
that, Mr. Ferguson ? "
" Those are your orders, I tell you," shouted Ferguson. But
he amended them just in time. ** No," he added, almost in
a whisper. " You must not drown the poor disappointed body
quite ; but toss him in and pull him out when you do see that he
cannot swim, if there is much water in the stream. And you may
ask him afterwards for his card and his opinion of Mr. Curdling,
the new English laird, for making you do such a thing. Ask him
that, Peter Macdonald, God bless you ! "
And then Ferguson went home to his dinner, relieved.
» » » « «
But at seven o'clock that evening, when Ferguson was sitting
in thought with his old wife and his granddaughter, Peter Macdonald
came flying to the door with remarkable news.
He had, he said, run all the way from his own cottage, and
now stood gasping and looking like a wild thing.
" I have drowned one of them already," he declared presently,
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" and I cannot get his breath back into him. Maybe you will lend
me a little whisky. It is a wicked sinner I am this day if I am to
have the death of a fellow creature on my mind."
Ferguson was distressed and shocked when he understood.
" The Lord be guid to us ! " he whispered, as he stepped to a
cupboard. He took from it a small bottle and hurried outside.
Macdonald accompanied him, but the old head keeper's strides
soon left him behind. The Glen Gisach man seemed dazed by his
feat of manslaughter, as he continued to believe it. He was co-
herent only as to the fact. He had espied a gentleman fishing one
of the best pools on the stream, not half a mile from his cottage ;
ay, and he was into a salmon. And he had gone to him and found
him still at that salmon. He had not touched the gentleman at
first — no, indeed ; but he had made it plain to him that he was not
now permitted to fish, no matter who he was. And then his temper
had got the better of him. The gentleman swore at him — Mac-
donald had heard English swearing before, and he recognised the
music of the words ; and, moreover, the gentleman did more, he
kicked out at him. And Macdonald was not likely to put up with
that, in the performance of his duty. Therefore, he had first
snatched the rod from the gentleman, and then, though not before
the gentleman had kicked him again and used awful language at
him, he had taken him by the leg and an arm and thrown him
into the pool with the hooked salmon. Having thrown him in,
he had grassed the fish, which was very tired, and foul-hooked
besides. And then he had turned his attention to the gentleman
again. The gentleman had splashed a great deal, and screamed,
and bobbed about; but he had not thought there was danger
for his life in a pool only six feet deep at the most. But it was
so, indeed ; and when Macdonald had gone in to his middle
and landed him also, he was quite still, with the face of a corpse.
And that was all indeed, barring the pains Macdonald had ex-
pended upon the poor gentleman, first to shake the water out of
his stomach, and then (in his cottage) to warm the life back into
him. And he had left him in his own bed, with hot bottles at
his feet and all his blankets and wardrobe piled on the bed.
Ferguson moderated his strides a little to let his Skye cousin
tell this tale.
** There never was such bloody doings in The Maginton's
time," he said briefly in comment. '* What kind of a gentleman
is he, Peter, my poor man ? Did you ever see him before ? "
But he was a stranger to Macdonald. Macdonald hadn't
watched him very closely. He Mas not much to look at whatever.
A small body, with a proud, rude manner. And it was all the same
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THE NEW LAIRD'S BAPTISM
187
what he was, he was sorry he had thrown the poor creature into
the water. It was the first time he had done such a thing, and
he would never do it again — no, not for ten new lairds.
Then, in silence, Ferguson quickened his pace, distanced
Macdonald, and reached the cottage in Glen Gisach fully a quarter
of a mile ahead of his subordinate.
Twilight was over the glen, and the cottage was only faintly
illumined by the peat glow on the hearth. But there was glow
enough and to spare to bring the confounding climax of that great
day quite home to the head keeper in a moment.
There, by the wall, on the broken-bottomed and worm-eaten
sofa which served Macdonald for a bed, lay the new laird of Glen
Sloch.
Ferguson uttered a suitable exclamation of dismay : and im-
mediately afterwards he cried something else, also befitting the
occasion, for Mr. Curdling had moved and his eyes were upon Fer-
guson, with a beseeching look in them. Yes, even in that dim i
room, the head keeper could see the terror in his master's eyes, or
he thought so. And then, thankful to the heart, he kneeled by the
couch and began his ministrations.
Better still, they were promptly efficacious. Mr. Curdling
absorbed the whisky with evident appetite. And while he did so
Ferguson poured out regrets and explanations and upbraidings of
the idiocy of Macdonald, as well as whisky.
*' But then, ye ken, sir," he added to the upbraidings, ** the fool
didna ken ye from a'body else, and wass only doing what with my
ain tongue I did tell him to do."
To all which Mr. Curdling said nothing. He gulped down
whisky, and coughed, and shut his eyes, and opened them again, and
gasped and coughed anew. ^
And then Macdonald crept in with the face of a haunted man.
The joy that came to him with the sight of the reviving gentleman
on his bed was checked a little by the torrent of abuse which his
remote cousin flung at him. He stood limp in the doorway, with
shaking hands, until bidden to light a lamp.
The new laird then spoke.
" Never mind," he whispered. And, as Ferguson was a living
and anxious man, the new laird seemed to laugh a short laugh after
the words ! ** It's all right, Ferguson. I see how it happened. He
didn't know me."
*' He has nae English worth a damn, sir ! " cried the still-
appalled head keeper. *' Licht the lamp, I'm telling you, man.
And, look ye, Mr. Curdhng, I'm ashamed that he is related to me at
all, though a very far cousin, and only on the mither's side at that.
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i88 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Yes, indeed. And he shall gang awa' back to Skye, whaur they are
savages in the place he comes frae. You will remember that, Mac-
donald, in the morning. You will go out of the glen and be off with
you before sunrise, and never show your face in Glen Sloch again.
And another thing : One word to any living and intelligent body
about what you have done this day in Glen Sloch, and I shall have
the law at you for assaulting a stranger. Yes, you may well hold
your tongue. And be off with you now to your byre. You are no
better than your own cow ; not so good, indeed. I've tellt him, sir,"
he explained, gently, ** that he is to leave the morn. He wass never
o' muckle use at ony time, and he'll no daur tell on 't. Naebody in
the glen shall dae that, I promise ye, sir, as if ye wass The
Maginton himself."
Once more Ferguson was amazed by the sound of laughter
from his cousin's nasty bed. Mr. Curdling was moving, and had
made another discovery.
'* Hang me if I'm not — naked ! " he murmured.
This time he laughed almost vigorously, as he sat up and the
blankets fell from his shoulders.
" I'll have to borrow a kilt, eh, Ferguson ? " he said, feebly, yet
as if it were a joke.
Laughing again, he lay down. And now he completed the great
conquest of Ferguson's generous heart.
"There's no harm done," he said. *' Now I come to think ot
it, I deserved it. He's an honest chap, whoever he is; and as for
sacking him — rubbish ! And you may spread the story all over
Scotland for what I care. The only thing I do care about is some
dinner. Find me some dry things, Ferguson, old man, and let's
get out of this. I'm feeling better now."
By the modest light of his cousin's lamp Ferguson gazed with
set eyebrows and a firm mouth at his new master during those
words ; and then he set the seal on his continued and loyal alliance
with Mr. CurdHng of Glen Sloch.
"I'm askin' yer pardon, sir," he said, "for thinkin' what
I thought about ye. Ye're as fine a man as The Maginton him-
self, and — I canna say more. Ye're a good Christian moreover,
Mr. Curdling. Maybe Macdonald's own Sabbath clothes "
*****
In Peter Macdonald's Sabbath clothes, somewhat adjusted,
Mr. Curdling was anon escorted proudly by Ferguson to the splen-
dours of the lodge, and their manly union was cemented ere the
gates were reached.
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THE UNSEEN FOREST RANGERS
A TALE OF BURMA
BY A. EGGAR
The Burman villager's idea of time is quite in keeping with his
casual nature. He measures time by " a betel-nut chew," or, if
pressed for greater accuracy, by ** the boiling of a pot of rice."
The sun is his time-piece. Three in the afternoon is indicated
by pointing to the sky half-way down towards the west, and six in
the evening is "the sun-going-in time,*' (for in this country the sun
sets at almost the same hour throughout the year), and the cocks
crow the watches of the night at regular intervals — at ten, one, and
four. At the appointed hour one eager voice will be raised and
the cry will be passed from house to house, when all will crow
together until the discordant sounds die away with the last shrill
clarion of the jungle-fowl in the bamboo thicket hard by.
Night treads close on the heels of day. Just as two black-
smiths, wielding hammers in concert, trust in each other's regular
motion, and each starts his hammer on its downward stroke before
the other has left the anvil : so, even before the sun has ended its
course, night swings overhead and falls down the sky, flattening out
the glowing bars of cloud on the anvil of the western horizon. There
is no long wait between day and night. The sun drops and chill
darkness shuts down at once.
We were seated one evening in the house of Ko Po, the head-
man. The village of Choon-thit is very small, and the head-man's
house was of no great pretensions. Four legs of rough-hewn tree-
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igo THE BADMINTON MAGA2INE
trunks raised the floor above the fever-laden mists. Three sides
were walled with bamboo-matting and the roof was thatched with
grass. Access to the open front by means of a tree-trunk notched
into steps presented no difficulty to an agile man.
Within, at one corner, a canopy of dingy cloth hung over the
pallet-bed — a stuffv' but peaceful retreat from the attacks of the per-
sistent mosquito; at the other corner stood a loom, roughly
made and worn by use, the threads of home-spun cotton stretched
along it ; near this was an ingenious wooden mangle at which the
head-man's wife was occupied in squeezing the black seeds from fluffy
balls of freshly picked cotton ; a smoky rush-light guttered on the
floor beside her, and, on mats in the centre of the room, we were
seated round the betel-box with blankets pulled about us, for the
night air was wet and that truceless demon **ching" (the mosquito)
shrieked with triumph over every naked spot.
A short while before, in the slanting sun the cattle had been
charging in dusty herds all among the houses — for all must be inside
the stockade before the sharp-spiked bamboo gates are wheeled across
and fastened for the night — and now, before we had finished our
simple meal, every space was filled with darkness.
Looking from the open front of the house we could discern only
the outline of the carved wood- work on the priest's house opposite,
and the gaunt straight trunks of the toddy-palms standing like
sentinels round the dark mass of the pagoda silhouetted against the
dying sky. The sounds of the village came in with the damp night
air. Across the way Ma Gyee still pounded rice with a regular thug-
thug-thug; and from further off" came the quavering notes of a bam-
boo flute (the bamboo flute sounds quite melodious at a distance).
Then, when men were silent, we could hear, through the matting of
the wall, the buff'aloes munching in the straw, and through the gaps
in the floor the dogs arguing underneath the house.
On the top of the pagoda a bell tinkled lazily, and something
unseen fluttered among the palm-tree leaves — a bat, perhaps; or was
it one of the restless ** Nats," those spirits that infest the night ?
Simple beliefs of an untaught people ! Who could not sympathise
with them here amid the surroundings that gave them origin ?
In towns of human handiwork man may grow exultant by
reason of his numbers. But in the forest, surrounded by the signs of
nature's boundless energy, his spirit is subdued by the presence of a
superior power. How slight he seems beside those giant trees at
whose feet he wanders ; and that monstrous creeper, thicker than
a man's body, that like some huge snake gliding from the under-
growth has sprung upon its prey — the tree— and twisted up to its
very throat, where, with knots of tight-drawn muscle, it chokes the
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THE UNSEEN FOREST RANGERS 191
life out of even that great tower of strength ! But trees and creepers
must all give place to the untamed mountain torrent that tears and
slashes its impatient way down to the open plains.
Man's fancy enthrones, amid these signs of strength, beings
more powerful, than himself. He feels their presence everywhere,
and by modest offerings of tribute he seeks to avert their wrath and
enlist their sympathies.
From the stag he kills, the simple hunter cuts the tips of the
ears and lips, and puts those pieces in a conspicuous place — on a
leaf, or in a cleft cut in
the bark of a tree — as an
offering of atonement. A
persistent vengeance will
dog the steps of the pre-
sumptuous man who neg-
lects these ceremonies
— how truly does con-
science make cowards of
us all.
He will be hunted ! an offering
The rotten bough,
the crumbling cliff, the chasm overgrown and hidden by the brush-
wood— what are these but traps laid for him, even as he lays them
for the beasts of lower order ?
The tiger will be put upon his trail, and the hidden serpent lie
in wait with poisoned arrow !
He may avoid these dangers in the day, — but in the night he
cannot see what causes that rustling in the bushes, those groans
and whispers in the tree-tops, and that cold wind which suddenly
breathes upon his back ; and can it be mere tree-roots that trip his
feet, and nothing more than creeping plants that twine about his
arms and throat while the hostile darkness closes round him,
waiting for its opportunity ?
*****
** It is truth," assented Ko Po; **evil will befall the man who
slights the Nats. When Brown Thakin,^ the young policeman,
first came here he laughed at the * guardians of the forest.* He had
not tasted of it then, nor known what the lonely hunter feels of that
breathing close behind him, and that footfall in the leaves, nor what
the worker in the clearing knows of the eyes that watch him from
the face of the forest, and the unseen hands that plant the weeds as
soon as his back is turned. But he was soon to learn, and I helped
to teach him."
* Thakin = " Mr." or " the Englishman."
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192 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Ko Po stopped, and pulling ofif the lid of the betel-box, chose
out a fine green leaf from the lower tray, smeared it with just the
right amount of lime, snipped ofif a piece of betel-nut, added a
peppercorn and a pinch of tobacco, and rolled all up together, slowly
and deliberately folding the leaf — for everyone knows how a well-
mixed chew opens up wide thoughts and memories.
" One day," resumed Ko Po, " Brown Thakin was here. It
was the month of the ripening crops, when the rains had ended, but
the forest was thick. In the morning, Moung Pu, the woodcutter,
brought news of bison tracks fresh that very day. The Thakin
called me to him, and quickly filling a bag with dried fruit, bread,
and meat, and spirit-water in a flask, took two guns and ordered
me to follow.
'* One gun was large and heavy, with two barrels wide enough
for the thumb to slip easily in. A man might feel safe behind such
a gun as that. But the other was slight, and the powder-cases no
thicker than a rice stem. The Thakin laughed at my fears, and
said that he would take the smaller gun himself. Ah, he had still
to learn, for he had not yet seen a bison, nor felt it rushing on him
like a falling teak tree. Moung Pu came with us, and when we
reached the forest front I stopped to make offering to the Nats, as
is the custom ; but the Thakin would hurry on.
** Now it is always best to sit awhile, when the village is left
behind, till the ears are opened by the silence of the forest, and all
rash haste has left the body. Moreover, by signs that even a child
could read, I knew that the Nats were against us. The bamboo
twigs kept slashing in my eyes as the Thakin brushed past them,
and the thorny creepers pulled him back by his coat, while the
stones dislodged by his careless feet went leaping down among the
bushes with more than needful noise; the squirrels, too, in the
trees scampered chuckling on ahead to warn the game.
** It was in a path through the kine grass that we first picked
up the footprints, deep and fresh, for the ground was soft — a heavy
beast, tall as the hand could reach, I knew, and the breadth of
three men.^ It had been walking slowly, eating as it went. The
Thakin pressed on ahead, for the tracks were easy ; but soon he
stopped where the ground was hard and stony, for he had lost the
signs. I could see them, where the red stone was scraped. The
beast had turned to the right and climbed the hillside, but I made
pretence to cast around, for it was good that the Thakin should rest.
** When he was quieter he agreed that I should lead the way;
but that bison, in obedience to the Nats, had purposely confused
1 The Burma bison stands twenty-one hands.
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THE UNSEEN FOREST RANGERS 193
his tracks, for his marks led up hills and down again over the
slippery bamboo leaves in nearly the same path, and round and
round where the ground was hard and stony and signs were few,
and through marshy places where the going was heavy and the feet
must be withdrawn slowly for fear of noise. And so the whole day
through, until at last I could see no more, and cast around in vain.
It was the first time that I had lost a trail.
" But the night was on us, and, as quietly as possible, we had
to make a thatch of grass and bring water from the stream and sit
and sup. It was a black night, and I was uneasy, for the dew fell
heavily and the wailing ching stabbed even through the clothes.
Moung Pu kept scratching his leg with a noise like the sharpening of
A BURMBSB VILLAGE AT SUNSBT
a saw, until the Thakin woke up and declared that if he did not
stop there would be no game within a day's march.
*' I Could not sleep, but sat listening to the song of the frogs
and the cry of a waterfowl in the valley. My thoughts were of the
cunning ways of bison — of how he will lead the hunter through
the tall, thick grass, where the track ends a step in front and is cut
off a step behind ; a wall of green on either side. There the hunter
must be wary, for the bison will make a circle back and stand hid
beside the path, waiting, to hunt the hunter. Twice in the night I
heard the voice of a tiger calling like a she-cat for its young, once
far away, then nearer. The Thakin was asleep, but Moung Pu
heard — I felt him.
" * Let us appease the Nat,' he whispered ; and taking what
food there was left, he laid it under a bush ten paces off and then
crept back.
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194 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
" Thus we sat and almost fell asleep. But the ear was still
listening and suddenly jerked the bcxly into wakefulness. What
was that ? — the crack of a twig ! * Pat, pat ' — a footfall in the leaves.
* Pit, pat, pat ' — coming straight toward us ! Moung Pu groaned
softly, * Amai,^ it is a devil sent to take us ! '
** I gripped his arm to force him into silence, the fool. The
thing had not yet got our scent and was coming nearer. It stopped.
Ah, it must have found the offering, for the fireflies glimmering
round the spot rose and hovered in wider circles. There was a
sound of gobbling jaws. A snort. Then 'crash, crash, crash,* it
bounded straight away.
*****
*' * Was it a boar ? ' you ask. I cannot say what shapes the Nats
assume, but the offering had been accepted, and from that time
I knew that the luck would turn, and fell asleep.
* * * * ' *
** * Haarh ! haarh ! — haarh ! ' We were all awake at once. It
was a barking deer close by in the valley disturbed by something.
Then, from the same direction, * Pwook ' — the sound of a heavy
hoof withdrawn from the mud. It would soon be light, for the
white finger of the dawn was already pointing skywards and the
cocks were crowing in the bamboos. We heard the beast below
climbing the steep hillside opposite, in no hurry, but with a clatter
of stones and tearing of branches as he pushed his way through the
scrub. He must have reached the top and passed over to the other
side, for the sounds ceased.
** As soon as it was light we sought for the tracks. They were
the same. Deep marked on the hindmost where it had leapt the
stream, the water trickling into them, and a crushed blade of grass
still straightening itself. But we were near, and the fewer of us the
better. So Moung Pu stayed behind and we two went on — slowly,
and inch by inch, carefully choosing footholds between the sticks
and leaves, the one foot supporting the full weight before the other
dared to move. We people know how to do it, but Thakins soon
grow tired, and their clothes brush against the bushes ; it is a
wonder they ever get near the game.
'* We must have got very close, for the smell of bison was on
the leaves, and in a pool where it had drunk there floated bursting
bubbles of green spittle. We stopped to take the wind. Ah, good
luck ! it was floating down towards us. The tracks led through the
tall, wet grass. Thakin went first, still holding his little gun, and
I behind.
^ Amai = *' Mother," an exclamation.
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THE UNSEEN FOREST RANGERS 195
** Suddenly — * Huh, huh ! * and a crashing through the grass.
Only a boar, as startled as we. But listen. Had that noise started
the bison? No sound. Silently we proceeded; I close behind, so
that the one parting of the grass should suffice for two; so close
that my face came against his back.
'* He had stopped ; for there, five paces off in an open space,
stood the king of bisons, facing us with red anger in his eyes, and
breath that came in snorts ! Slowly the Thakin raised his gun.
Oh, surely he need not take so long ! What would he say if I fired
first ? The bison did not wait, but stamped with his forefoot and
charged straight upon us. The gun spoke once, but in no way
stopped that awful rush. I leapt to one side, the Thakin fell flat,
and the beast in charging leapt right over him and was carried by
his own weight onwards through the grass. But in twenty paces
he stopped, planting his forefeet deep, and turned to come again
head down.
** ' Thakin, take this gun,' I cried.
** He pushed it aside, and kneeling, fired twice. I fired once at
the bended neck. His forelegs doubled up, and with a thundering
shock his body was carried right up to our feet. He stniggled to
rise, tearing the ground with his hoofs. * The head ! — shoot the
head ! ' The beast rolled over, eyes staring, dead. Its body
sweltered in its steam."
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EGBRTON HOUSE STUD FARM.
THE EGERTON HOUSE STUD, 1905
BY GILBERT H. PARSONS
{WUh Photographs taken by the Author.)
The training establishment controlled by Richard Marsh at New-
market is of the highest standing, as need scarcely be said : but it is
perhaps not so generally known that the King's trainer also manages
one of the most important breeding studs, namely the Egerton
House Farm, which is situated just behind his stables, on the
Racecourse side of Newmarket, not very far from the historic
Ditch.
The farm buildings occupy a considerable area, and are charm-
ingly placed in the midst of secluded paddocks which plantations
and strips of woodland render picturesque ; the boxes stand round
three sides of a well-tended lawn, broken here and there by
clumps of shrubs, the stud groom's house on the north side over-
looking the whole. Immediately to the right of his domain are the
stallion boxes with their spacious yards. The time of our visit was
April, when the season was just at its height ; and one often wonders
if even those intimately connected with the Turf ever fully realise
the vast responsibility that falls on the shoulders of the stud groom
of one of these establishments, especially at this time. In Alfred
Smallwood *' Dick " Marsh possesses a most able lieutenanti for he
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THE EGERTON HOUSE STUD, 1905 197
is a man who has his business at his finger-tips, the perfect order
with which everything is carried out and the condition of his
charges speaking volumes for the efficiency with which he fills his
most important position.
At the time of writing Smallwood had five very notable sires
under his care — Cyllene, Ayrshire, Common, St. Serf, and Ugly —
and the collection of matrons visiting these horses was a large and
distinguished one — almost, indeed, of priceless value.
The first of the sires led out for inspection is an old favourite,
a sterling racer in his day, Ayrshire by Hampton — Atalanta by
Galopin, and though in his twenty-first year the old horse is
looking the picture of health ; nor does he seem to have lost any of
the fire and spirit of his youth. He is a very compactly built horse
THE DUKB OF PORTLAND S AYRSHIRE BY HAMPTON — ATALANTA, WINNER OF
THE DERBY
standing sixteen hands, girthing 6 ft. 4 in., beautifully let down
behind the saddle, with rare powerful quarters, and sound, clean
limbs. This bay son of Hampton was the first to carry the Duke
of Portland's black and white to the fore at Epsom, but he won
other good races, and a brief sketch of his Turf career may not be
without interest. As a two-year-old he started well by taking the
Chesterfield Stakes at Newmarket, the Prince of Wales Stakes at
Goodwood, and the Champagne Stakes at Doncaster, keeping up
his reputation by winning during the following season the Two
Thousand, D^rby, and Foil Stakes at Newmirket. Seabreeze beat
him in the St. Leger and at Manchester, but he took his revenge as
a four-year-old by securing the Royal Stakes at Kempton, and the
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igS THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Eclipse Stakes at Sandown, the mare being behind him on both
occasions.
Ayrshire has proved an undisputed success at the stud, his
record as a sire being most consistent. From 1901 to 1905 his stock
have won not far short of ;f 60,000 in stakes, and a very remarkable
feature is the number of winners of his parentage. The most
notable of his progeny are Airs and Graces and Our Lassie, both
Oaks winners; Robert le Diable and Airship, winners of good handi-
caps ; Ballantrae, a Cambridgeshire winner; Gas, dam of Cicero ;
Cossack, Doctrine, Airlie, Heir Male, and a host of others.
When the next box is unlocked a treat is in store, for one of
the handsomest horses in England comes bounding out with a
CYLLSNE
snort, and draws himself up at attention. This is Cyllene, a beau-
tiful chestnut, son of Bonavista and Arcadia by Isonomy. He is a
magnificent picture of what a high-class blood sire should be, speed,
strength, and symmetry being exquisitely blended into one perfect
whole, for from his intelligent head right down to his hoofs it is
hard to find a single fault. He bears a striking resemblance to his
distinguished grandsire Bend Or, the beautiful dapples on his back
^ The way in which Friar's Balsam beat him at Ascot shows, however, how
diflferent Ayrshire's record would have been had the son of Hermit escaped mis-
fortune.—Ed.
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THE EGERTON HOUSE STUD, 1905 199
and quarters showing up prominently, while he is as good-tempered
and docile as could possibly be wished.
Cyllene was not found wanting on the racecourse, in fact he
was about the best of his year, and had his breeder, Mr. C. D. Rose,
entered him in the Derby he would undoubtedly have figured in the
list of winners of the great Epsom race. Out of five attempts in his
first season he caught the judge's eye on four occasions, these being
in the Sefton Park Plate at Liverpool, the Worth Stakes at Gatwick,
Forty-fifth Triennial Stakes at Ascot, and the National Breeders'
Produce Stakes at Kempton Park ; and when he met with reverse in
the Imperial Produce Stakes at Kempton he was by no means
disgraced, for he ran a good second to the smart Dieudonn6, to
whom he was giving 10 lb. As a three- year-old he won the New-
market Stakes with the greatest ease, and also added the Sandown
Foal Stakes and Jockey Club Stakes to his triumphs. The next
year he set the seal on his fame by winning the Ascot Gold Cup,
this being his last appearance on the Turf.
At the stud Cyllene was perhaps a little neglected at first, but
since then he has come to the front by leaps and bounds, his success
being quite phenomenal, and having done much to revive the glories
of the Stockwell line. Cicero, last year's Derby winner, is one of his
MO. cxxvii, VOL. XXII. — Ftbruary 1906 O
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200 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
best sons ; Polymelus, whom Lord Crewe has just sold for ^f 10,000,
is another fine colt, who should win good races for his new owner.
Then we have the speedy filly, Sweet Mary, not very far from the
top of last season's two-year-old handicap, of whom great things
are expected, to say nothing of Cyanean and other good horses.
When Cyllene passed into Mr. W. Bass's possession for the
large sum of 30,000 guineas many doubted the soundness of the
investment ; but when one takes into consideration how the horse's
services are sought after for the choicest mares, and the promise
shown by his young stock, it is no great error to state that there are
few if any sires for whom the future holds out a more brilliant
prospect.
Common next claims our attention, and he strongly objected to
standing for his portrait ; when he did settle, however, a very char-
acteristic likeness of him was secured, a fitting reward for over an
hour's trouble. Bred by Sir Frederick Johnstone in 1888, Common
is a son of the great Isonomy and Thistle, the dam of Throstle. He
is a very dark brown horse of sixteen hands, and though not perhaps
a particularly handsome one, he has done decidedly well.
Big and backward as a two-year-old, the colt's breeder and his
partner, the late Lord Alington, decided not to risk his reputation till
the following year, a policy by which they benefited to a marked degree,
for Common not only won the Derby, but joined the select band of
wearers of the *' Triple Crown " by winning the Two Thousand and
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THE EGERTON HOUSE STUD, 1905 201
Leger, afterwards finding a purchaser in the late Sir J. Blundell
Maple at 3^15,000.
Common began stud life at Childwick, but he has been some-
what of a disappointment, the great winner to uphold his name
having not yet arrived; however, he is represented by Nun Nicer,
winner of the One Thousand, Bowery, Newsboy, Commune, The
Bishop, Cottager, Simony, and some other useful horses.
The Duke of Portland has another sire at Egerton House; this
is St. Serf by St. Simon — Feronia by Thormanby, a very powerfully
built brown standing 16 h. 3 in., well let down, with specially good
quarters and loins. St. Serf was a successful racehorse in his day,
winning the Rous Memorial Stakes at Ascot in 1890 as a three-year-
old. He has earned considerable distinction at the stud, his stock
from 1901 to 1905 having won 3^37,347 in stake money, and amongst
the animals that own him as a sire are Thais, winner of the One
Thousand in 1896, Calverley, Rice, St. Lundi, Skopos, Shaddock,
St. la, Ian, Bitters, and others. The sensational victory of
Challacombe, one of his sons, in this year's St. Leger, has also
added fresh lustre to his fame.
Lord Wolverton's Ugly, by Minting — Wee Agnes by Strathconan,
is the last of the staUions. His name was doubtless derived from
o 2
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202 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
his ugly lop ears, for otherwise he is a horse of pleasing conforma-
tion, having a strong back and loins and immense bone. He stood
the ordeal of training for seven years, and won no fewer than twenty-
two races. His speed was exceptional, and he ranked as quite a top
sawyer as far as sprint handicaps were concerned. At the low fee of
ten guineas he has been well patronised, and his stock already show
that they inherit the gift of going, some of his two-year-olds during
last season having been very useful.
We now start a tour of inspection of the mares, many of them
with young foals at foot. Not far down the drive we come to a
sheltered little paddock with only two occupants, but one a host in
herself, for it is none other than the great Sceptre. Her companion
is Skyscraper, a nice little chestnut mare of Mr. Raphael's. As
Sceptre stands with head aloft and ears pricked one wonders if she
recollects those stirring scenes 'mid the din and bustle of the race-
course of which she was the central figure ! Nothing breaks the
calm of her life now ; the firm strong muscles of the trained racer
are relaxed, the brilliant polish of her skin is now replaced by a long
and shaggy coat splashed with mud ; but there still remain the
grandness of her form, the grace of movement, and magnificence of
her proportions, which in a few years' time when she has filled out
a bit more will stamp her as a brood mare of the highest caste.
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THE EGERTON HOUSE STUD, 1905 203
Though it is not so long since Sceptre ran, one may be pardoned
for dwelling a brief space at the dazzling page of Turf history that
she left to be handed down to posterity.
With a pang of regret we recall the fact that she did not carry
the time-honoured yellow jacket of her breeder, the late Duke of
Westminster. Persimmon's daughter made the record price for a
yearling, of 10,000 guineas, when she fell to Mr. Robert Sievier's bid
at the late Duke's sale in 1900. Her two-year-old career opened
with victory in the Woodcote Stakes at Epsom ; this she followed
up by taking the July Stakes at Newmarket without an effort ; but
she went down, when amiss, in the Champagne Stakes at Doncaster
GAS, DAM OF CICERO
later in the year. In the Coronation year, 1902, considerable
surprise was expressed by some at the fact of her going to the post
for the Lincoln Handicap so early in the season, but she was only
beaten by a head, which might have been in her favour had not her
jockey been over-anxious. Then followed sweeping victories in both
the ** Guineas," and in record time as well ; but she failed hopelessly
in the Derby, her form being too bad to be true. An unsuccessful
attempt to bring the Grand Prix across the Channel followed her
triumph in the Oaks. She was returned a winner at both Ascot and
Goodwood, and also tasted defeat at these meetings. On the Town
Moor she carried off the St. Leger in smashing style : and then a
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204 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
futile effort to overhaul Elba in the Park Hill Stakes was her last
attempt as a three-year-old.
Mr. Sievier then sold his great mare to Mr. W. Bass for
;f25,ooo, and she first carried his colours in the Eclipse Stakes as a
four-year-old, when Ard Patrick beat her by a neck after a terrific
struggle. She next gave Rock Sand 15 lb. and cantered in four
lengths in front of him for the Jockey Club Stakes at Newmarket,
and ran a great race in the Duke of York Stakes at Kempton, where,
carrying top weight, and after being badly interfered with during the
race, she snatched the verdict from Happy Slave by the shortest of
heads, amidst intense excitement.
QUINTESSENCE AND FOAL
Sceptre continued her triumphal progress to the end of her four-
year-old career, but she did not retain her form the following season,
and was then put to the stud, her first mate having been Cyllene ;
and the result of the union is awaited with keen interest by all her
admirers. As the dam of Cicero, Lord Rosebery's third Derby
winner. Gas is not without interest. She is a small, nicely moulded
brown daughter of Ayrshire and Illuminata, and was heavily in foal
to Sir Visto when photographed.
Quintessence was very proud of her first foal by Orion, a
remarkably well-bred sire. In her racing days she carried Lord
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THE EGERTON HOUSE STUD, 1905 ^^5
Falmouth's jacket with great success, winning the One Thousa/jcf as
well as other races, and never being beaten. Her pedigree is by
St. Frusquin — Margarine. Memoir, by St. Simon — Quiver, own
sister to La Fleche, was one of those flying fillies who brought the
great Welbeck sire to the fore. She won the Newmarket Stakes,
Oaks and St. L^er, and other good races ; but since she left the
post for the paddock her value as a brood mare has depended
almost entirely on John o' Gaunt. La Roche, by St. Simon — Miss
Mildred, is another Welbeck mare, and like Memoir on a visit to
Cyllene. The Oaks and Manchester Cup fell to her share in 1900.
The King sends two mares to the sire of Cicero : Vane, an own
sister to Flying Fox, and Laodamia, a well-known performer who is
heavy in foal to St. Simon.
Space forbids reference to all the mares at this extensive
establishment, so we must pass on with only a brief note here and
there about the most prominent, and in many cases names only
must suffice. The Duke of Portland's Tact is in foal to St. Serf and
visits him again ; then come Nenemoosha, dam of Cyanean, who
goes to Cyllene; and another mare booked to the same sire is Lady
Orme, with a bay colt by St. Simon. Idle Band, with a chestnut
filly by Winkfield, is on a visit to Common, as also are Microscope
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2o6 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
and Chrysomel with foals by Amphion and Ocean Wave resp)ec-
tively. On Ayrshire's list is Sophie, interesting as she has the
only Ard Patrick foal in England ; Barndoor ; Yours, dam of Our
Lassie; Autumn Rose, with a filly by Chaleureux; and others.
Some nice mares nominated to St. Serf are Butterine, Loodiana,
Golden Dream, and Kentish Cherry. The owners of Chasse Caf6,
Tertia, and Granny are patronising Ugly. Many other mares
were due to arrive, some of them of considerable note.
I must close with a hope that these few brief notes will convey
an idea of the magnitude and importance of the Egerton Stud, and
of its influence on the breeding of bloodstock generally.
LA ROCHE BY ST. SIMON, WINNER OF THE OAKS AND MANCHESTER CUP, igOO
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AUTUMN FISHING ON OUR LAKE
BY EDWARD F. SPENCE
Our lake is big, beautiful, exasperating, and enchanting. I never
fish it without expecting to catch a monster, for I know that
its waters contain superb specimens of several kinds of fish, and the
quantity of its inhabitants is enormous. Bream swim about rest-
lessly in vast shoals; timid tench play sometimes near the shore and
amaze spectators by their number and size ; suspicious carp im-
ported from a neighbouring stewpond are sometimes seen, and very
rarely caught. Of course these three become quite unassailable,
honourably, in winter. Perch seem as plentiful as at Slapton Ley.
A quiet peep over the side of the boat in shallow places shows that
there are countless rudd and roach, and the ungregarious pike will run
at a bait in almost every one of the hundred acres of reed-surrounded
'water that is set in a frame of beautiful trees. The sanctum of its
owner displays superb specimens of the fish, the noblest of them
all a pike of 33 lb., a straight-backed creature, well "set up" in
more senses than one ; one might say, almost as a matter of course,
that it is a female fish, since the ladies of the Esox family seem the
predominant partners.
I chanced to begin my operations at an ill-chosen season,
rather late for bottom fishing, and early for pike. The result of
ground-baiting different swims with bushels of bran, bread, barley-
meal, and potatoes, and many hundreds of the humble creatures
that Walton did not tell us to use as though we loved them,
Mras rather disappointing. The lake merely offered samples of
its wares and refused to deliver serious quantities. A few bream,
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2o8 THE BADMINTON MAGA2INE
the biggest of them a three-pounder, were landed ; indeed, I did a
little better with the tench, for now and again, when hope and the
light had almost faded, my float played mysterious antics, and then,
after some rather leisurely rushes over a narrow area, a tench came
into the boat — not the tench of my dreams, for I had dreamt of
six-pounders, and none of them quite reached three, nor the tench
of my old experience, for these were pale bronze in colour, instead
of mysterious green, and their eyes lacked the strange pigeon 's-
blood tinge. Moreover, like all the other fish of the lake, they were
slimeless; indeed, to touch them was a pleasure, owing to their
curious smooth velvety surface. I never caught more than two at
a sitting. The perch behaved a little more kindly. One could not
try anywhere without catching little ones, and sometimes a good
fish presented itself. For instance, one evening we angled for them,
using small rudd as live bait; these we had caught with great
difficulty among the weeds, since no fish of any kind ever entered
my minnow trap, though we set it in the small outlet stream, and
baited with all kinds of luxuries. All our little baits attracted
attention. Small pike appropriated half a dozen, and three of the
rascals were landed, whilst the others bit through the gut and got
away. The best of the perch on that occasion was a pretty fish
of I J lb.
Some weeks later, during a cold north-wester I fished a swim
which I had baited up with worms for two nights running, and had
one bite, one only ; but the fish weighed 2 lb. 13 oz. by my spring
balance, 2 lb. 10 oz. by a less flattering instrument, and if we had
not already upon our walls two perch, one of 3jlb., the other a little
heavier, it would have enjoyed the honour of being set up. People
who despise *' coarse '* fish should eat a perch from our lake ; he is
almost as good as red mullet, and better than most trout. There
was quite an incident during our perch-fishing, for one day when I
struck after a bite I found there was something on my hook heavier
than perch or bream or tench, and after a few minutes dragged almost
within range of George, my gillie, a pike which caused him to give a
shout, and appeared to me to be well in its teens. We loosed the
punt from the poles and went after it with very low hopes. Twice the
fish ran into weed clumps and I got him out, each time bringing him
almost near enough for the net ; but on the third occasion, when I
was pulling gingerly for fear of breaking the gut, the villain
simplified my task by biting it into two. One has curious luck in
such matters. The next day I landed a little pike which had taken
bread-crust on a No. 14 hook whipped to 5-x gut. Once we caught
five jack on fine undrawn gut, and another time lost four hooks in
about ten minutes. Why is it that nature has given pike its seven
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AUTUMN FISHING ON OUR LAKE 209
hundred or so of sharp teeth to assist it in feeding on food that
it never chews or even bites into pieces, but swallows whole however
big; whilst the perch, which in the main has exactly the same diet,
has no need for the dentist, since it possesses hardly a discernible
tooth in its big tender mouth ? The teeth can hardly have been
given merely for the purpose of compelling the angler to apply to
the theatrical costumier for gimp, the main part of his tackle, and
of enabling him to acquire a golf vocabulary in consequence of the
horrible treachery of the exasperating material.
The pike caught during my thirty days or so amounted to
about three hundred, of which all but thirty were taken by spinning
and as the result of a vast amount of hard labour : if I were to work
as hard and earnestly as I play, I should become rich. Live bait
swam about for hours at a time without attracting attention, and
the best two fish caught on float or paternoster were an eight and a
six pounder. The fact is strange, since in the hope of catching a
big specimen I had three live baits out for about three hours every
day. Of course I do not complain, since I take far greater pleasure
in one pike caught by spinning than a dozen captured in the duffer's
method. An average of nine pike a day to one boat in September,
of course, is very good ; but then they ran small as a rule. Nearly
all of them were male fish ; in fact the Jills were far more cautious
or sluggish than the Jacks, which I fancy is not often the case.
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2IO THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Amongst all of them I only know of three that reached two figures,
though some that were hooked and escaped without being seen may
have been very large. One was the fellow which bit through my
worm tackle; the second gave us an anxious quarter of an hour
during a north-west gale, and though I kept it out of the reeds, and
even lifted it twice over the rope attached to the big stone that
helped us when drifting, and got it out of one clump of thick weeds,
the honours of the day were with the fish. Once I seemed to have
it at my mercy; a good male fish, somewhere about fifteen p)ounds:
it was easily within range of the gaff, but that instrument had got
tangled up in the cocoa-nut matting at the bottom of the punt, and
by the time I had freed it the wicked teeth had done their work,
stout gimp had been bitten through, and we were left lamenting.
The third gave a grand fight, and had the pike rushed for the reeds
at the beginning instead of dashing about in the open water it might
have been the conqueror, for I was trying an eight-ounce one-
handed spinning rod of two joints spliced and not ferruled, and
when it did make a rush it gave a permanent curvature of the spine
to the weapon, and nearly broke it ; but part of the fish's strength
had gone, and as we rowed parallel with the reeds, and I pulled at
the captive's head sideways, it came round in a circle when less
than a yard from safety, and a few minutes later, after being dis-
lodged from two clumps of weed, it lay still, holding on to the third
clump, thinking itself secure, and I lifted it in with the gaff, its
mouth full of the green stuff. The pike weighed fourteen pounds,
was thirty-eight inches long, and no doubt would have been two or
three pounds heavier by Christmas, for it was decidedly thin.
Of the rudd and roach fishing I have little to say. Perhaps I
fished badly for them ; anyhow I caught none of any size, though
the other boat took several big rudd, taken right on the bottom
after heavy ground-baiting. Certainly the "red eyes" puzzled me,
for sometimes when bait-fishing with two hooks in seven feet of
water I caught rudd and roach at one haul, but the roach generally
took the upper hook, and their cousins the lower, and upon examin-
ing a number of them it seemed to me that the mouths of the one
had less of an upward turn and the other less of a downward droop
than elsewhere. Moreover, the shape of the roach was more like
that of dace ; indeed, a great many were quite as slim as the fish
which so closely resembles the chub that ignorant fishermen
have often had great disappointments through thinking that a
** loggerhead '' was a monster " dace." There were quite a number
of small hybrids between rudd and bream; and on the northern
shore of the lake, where a good many of the perch lacked their
transverse bars, a considerable portion of the rudd had pale eyes
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AUTUMN FISHING ON OUR LAKE 211
almost colourless fins, and greenish bodies, yet seemed in perfect
health and good condition.
Fortunately the contemplative angler often has some com-
pensation when the fish are unkindly. Our lake, which with
extravagant modesty calls itself a pond, is remarkably rich in birds.
Swans constitute the most notable feature : I have seen as many as
forty-two huddled together in the lee caused by a bank of reeds
when a gale was blowing that had driven up the shore swans for
shelter. Only three seemed to live on the ponds, two cock birds
and a hen, and I think that they were unwillingly tied there by love
and the inability of three cygnets to fly. For one of the gentlemen
was constantly making advances to the lady, which her husband
resented, and a ludicrous little drama was acted frequently. The
husband from time to time would swell himself out and double him-
self up till he looked like some absurd heraldic bird, and pursue the
intruder, forcing himself along the water with clumsy rushes, much
impeded by the resistance which his quaint shape offered ; and the
other paddled calmly away, easily keeping ahead. After a while
the furious spouse used to make cumbersome preparations for flying
after the enemy, and give due notice of his intention; so with much
labour and great noise the two managed to get off the water and fly
a couple of hundred yards, and then they settled down as if nothing
were the matter. A little later this comedy or farce would be
repeated da capo, and so on twenty times a day.
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212 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Professional instinct induced me to criticise the performance:
I have an uncharitable suspicion that the husband never meant to
overtake the other bird, and even the idea that the whole affair was
callously arranged between the gentlemen in order that the husband
might win the admiration of his lady for his valour, and that the
vain lover received some bribe in the shape of tit-bits of weed or
animalcules from them. Most of the swans lived on the sea-shore,
though some came from a lake inland ; and a fine sight it was to see
them swimming calmly in the little lagoons among the ^een
mudbanks, finer still when they came flying to the lake. For a
long time before they arrived you could hear the singing of their
wings ; then a body of twenty or so would appear over the top of
the trees with outstretched necks and tucked-up feet, flying swiftly
till they came over the water; then, after making a great curve,
dropping to the surface, and as they descended bringing their l^s
forward to break the fall, and coming down with a crash and a
splash which sounded like the rattle of rifles at a distance. What
silly noises they make when gossiping about the weather and other
subjects that interest them ! The idea of the music of the swan
song was a very daring invention.
Ducks we have in thousands ; so far as they are concerned the
west end is fashionable, perhaps because it is shallow, or rather
shallower than the rest, for the lake is deep throughout. At the
east, however, I always startled three at one place when spinning —
two drakes and a duck — and have a horrid thought that there was
some kind of menage a trots. The widgeon never seemed to light on
the water, but used to come in great clouds from the sea and fly
over inland. The coots, of course, played the part of low comedians
of the lake, and whenever any particularly ridiculous noise was
heard George would say, "That's a coot." They kept well
amongst the reeds ; we saw few, but, alas ! heard many, and the
moorhens running about on the shore were more numerous. Once
a squirrel and a moorhen almost came into collision on the bank ;
I do not know which was the more frightened or disappeared the
faster. A woodpecker used to tell us the time pretty accurately by
its flight across the pond, uttering ugly squaks which suggested a
motor-car horn suffering from a bad cold. Once the squaks became
squeals and screams, for at the corner of the wood a hawk swooped
down and struck, and George, who has the blue eyes and keen
vision of the Queen's Cup winner, saw feathers fly. Back came the
woodpecker, pursued in a leisurely fashion by the hawk, which
apparently expected to see it fall dead, and both disappeared. A
minute later the hawk returned, chivvied and harassed by little birds
— finches they were, so George said — and water-wagtails, and as
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AUTUMN FISHING ON OUR LAKE 213
they came closer I was able to see the long tails that the pretty
birds waggle so pertly on the shore. He told me that they were
called ** Morley dish-washers" by the villagers, but who, what, or
where Morley was he did not know.
Perhaps the greatest joy was in the kingfisher. The colouring
may be a trifle crude, mid- Victorian, and the song shrill, but the
flash of flying jewellery made a pretty sight. Once we saw one
hovering ; it remained still in the air for half a minute, then dropped
with undescribable suddenness and a big splash, reappearing a little
later with a small fish in its beak, and flew into the woods. The
herons were not my competitors on the pond, probably because it
was too deep for their style of fishing, except at the edges, and these
were covered with weed ; but they used to fly about lazily, high up,
and then settle on the very top of the highest trees, where they
looked very funny, reminding me a little of the last scene in ** Peter
Pan," and of some old German child's picture-book of grotesque
storks on conventional tree-tops. Very few gulls visited us, probably
because the wind was rarely from the sea ; but once when it came
up for an hour from the south a number flew up and settled amongst
the swans, which seemed rather to resent their society, and huddled
together.
Swallows and martins were not numerous, nor did the starlings
favour us much. Although the fields round about were rich in
hen pheasants, I only saw one come over the lake, but their gaudy
males used to fly over at their bedtime and disappear amongst
the trees, uttering, before they roosted, their clattering curfew
note, for which the poachers thank them. We rarely saw any
rabbits, except when Master Bluey, a small long-haired dog be-
longing to the house, was having a little sport on his own account,
and drove them in vain pursuit out of the bushes near the trees.
Perhaps he would have caught some if he had not been assisted by
my own little cockney mongrel (called Mopsemann, on account of
his unacquaintance with Ibsen), whose London methods of rabbit-
coursing were peculiarly ineff'ective. Of music from the birds of
course we had very little. Occasionally the blackbirds sang for a
minute, and the thrushes in the distance uttered a few notes ; but in
the main we had to rely upon the robin redbreasts, which are very
numerous, and gave pretty performances ; even the crows cawed
rarely, and the rooks were almost silent. Still, we heard the lowing
of the cattle and sometimes the hoot of the owl as we used to walk
home with lighter burdens than we had hoped for, and scare the
timid bats that were fluttering in the hedges. So after all, though
the fishing was far below the standard of the lake and the wind
often was very cold and the rain sometimes exceedingly busy, the
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214 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
angler — poor butt of innumerable jokes, or rather of two or three
jests repeated with appalling frequency — has had his pleasures, and
is thankful for being a pure cockney, of the imported species, so
that the common sights and sounds of the country were deeply
interesting to him. The sentiment, I fear, is but a paraphrase of a
passage from the famous ** Of fifyshing with an Angle," attributed
to Dame Juliana Berners, a passage used without acknowledg-
ment by Burton in the only book that ever caused Dr. Johnson to
get out of bed two hours sooner than he wished to rise: — **And
yet atte the leaste he hath his holsom walke and mery at his ease.
A swete ayre of the swete savoure of the meede flures : that makyth
hym hungry. He heareth the melodyous armony of fowles. He
seeth the yonge swannes : heerons : duckes : cotes and many other
fowles nyght theyr brodes : whyche me semyth better than alle the
noyse of houndys : the blastes of hornys and the scrye of foulis that
hunters : fawkeners and fowlers can make. And yf the angler take
fysshe surely thenne is there noo man merier than he is in his
spyryte."
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BRIDGE
BY ** PORTLAND "
Bridge is a game in which a strict observance of etiquette is
absolutely essential, if it is to be played at all fairly. Its unwritten
laws are, in fact, of even more importance than the actual rules,
because unless they are rigidly conformed to it is the easiest thing
in the world for one side to take all sorts of improper advantages
of the other. It is of the essence of the game, for instance, that
the dealer and his partner should be entirely in the dark as to the
contents of each other's hands when declaring trumps. Now, if the
former hesitates a long time before passing the call, or the latter
shows any eagerness to have it left to him — as by suddenly brighten-
ing up, and asking who dealt, whether it is not his turn to
declare, etc. — it is obvious that these conditions do not prevail.
Similarly, each non-dealer is supposed to know nothing of his
partner's cards except for such inferences as can be drawn from
those he has already played, not from his manner of playing them.
But how often does it not happen that a little artless (or artful)
hesitation about putting down a card betrays the presence of another
in the player's hand ? How many Bridge- players are there not
vvho scarcely ever pass a trick without plainly showing that they
could take it if they chose ? All these are serious breaches of the
etiquette of the game, and every fair-minded man should do his
utmost to avoid committing them.
NO. cxxvii. VOL. xxii.— February 1906 P
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2i6 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
In making trumps the dealer should endeavour to take a uniform
length of time before he announces his decision, whether his hand
presents any difficulty or not. If he is going to pass he ought not
to do so at once, or his partner will guess that he has very little
strength, and even if he should hold the four aces it is not necessary
to snap out '* No trumps '* directly he catches sight of them. When
playing with a partner who can be trusted not to make the declara-
tion out of turn — which in the latter case would, of course, be a
dire misfortune — it is better to allow a decent interval to elapse
before making the call, whatever it may be ; for that is the only
way in which one can avoid giving any indication to friend
or foe.
If the dealer finds that he has dwelt too long upon the declara-
tion— which is sometimes unavoidable — he must make the best
declaration he can, whether it is a sound call on the hand or not.
If he leaves it after betraying any hesitation his partner must be
careful to take no advantage of this indication of strength, and to
avoid all semblance of doing so, for should he declare " no trumps "
or hearts on a hand which admits of any doubt he will at once incur
the imputation of unfairness. As a matter of fact many j>eople
make a point of declaring spades in these circumstances, no matter
what the contents of their hands may be ; but it is hardly necessarj'
to go so far as that. An attacking call ought not, however, to be
made if there has been any hesitation about passing, unless it is
obviously the right thing to do, and equally obvious that the
caller's judgment cannot have been affected by his partner's
delay.
As bad as, or worse than, dwelling on the declaration is dwell-
ing on the double, for that gives your partner a complete key to
your hand, which it is almost impossible for him to ignore. It is
no doubt his duty to play exactly as he would have done if no
indication had been given, but that is not such an easy matter. He
would not, of course, lead a strengthening heart at no-trumps if
you were known to be a heart conventionist, but it must be remem-
bered that the mischief does not stop with the initial lead. Know-
ing that you guard a particulair suit may help him tremendously,
and in all probability he will find it very difficult to dismiss this
fact from his mind.
One should, if possible, determine what calls one will double an<J
what calls one will not double before the declaration is made, and
if in any doubt when the eldest hand asks if he may play it is best
to answer promptly, **Yes." He ought not to ask the question
until he sees that you have sorted your cards and looked through
your hand.
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BRIDGE 217
To avoid hesitating during the play of a hand, which always
gives information away, the Bridge-player should look ahead and
prepare himself for every contingency that is likely to arise. Thus if
the eldest hand holds king and others in a suit and sees the ace,
queen upon the table, he should make up his mind at once whether
he should cover the knave or 10 if it is led through him. The third
player, too, should experience no difficulty in deciding what finesses
he will take if any of the suits in which dummy holds a high card or
cards are led up to him. If he does this he need not, when the time
comes, make it palpable that he is finessing.
Another kind of hesitation is the hesitation which we have
occasionally seen displayed intentionally with the object of mislead-
ing the dealer. This does not amount to actual cheating, but it
nevertheless introduces an element of bluff into the game which is
anything but desirable, and which the majority of Bridge-players
unite in condemning.
Another, and very important, part of the etiquette of Bridge is
that which governs, or ought to govern, one's relations with one's
partner. Whether your partner's play is satisfactory or not you
have no right to criticise it. He does not join in the game with a
view to gaining instruction, but amusement, and if he plays badly
it will not help your cause to tell him so. It is utterly useless, so
far as your interests are concerned, to point out what he ought to
have done in a situation which is very unlikely to repeat itself before
your partnership comes to an end, and it will not make him play
any better to know that you are dissatisfied.
Still more foolish is it to find fault with your partner's declar-
ations, because these are matters on which opinions are bound to
differ, and your judgment is only too likely to have been affected by
the result. You seldom hear anyone complain of a declaration
which has won him the game. And the player who takes his partner
to task for his declarations should remember that mere dogmatic
assertion does not make a proposition true. You often hear the
dealer say reprovingly to dummy, " That was not a heart hand,
partner ! " Remarks of this kind generally strike the writer as
absurd. In the first place, they imply a degree of superior knowledge
which is not always justified by the relative skill of the players ; and
secondly, it is quite possible that the hand may not have been a
heart hand, when considered from an abstract point of view and
judged upon its intrinsic merits, and yet hearts may have been the
proper declaration at the score. Dummy is so often in the position
of having to choose between two declarations, each of which is
palpably unsafe, that it is unfair to rate him if he does not always
hit upon the lesser evil.
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2l8
THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
ILLUSTRATIVE HAND
A and B are partners against Y and Z. Score : A and B, 28 ; Y and Z, love.
Z deals and declares no-trumps. Y^s and Z*s hands are as follows : —
Y*s hand (dummy).
Hearts 864
Diamonds A J 10 8 7
Clubs 6543
Spades Q
Z*s hand (dealer).
Hearts AQ3
Diamonds Q 6 5
Clubs K Q 2
Spades A K 5 4
Trick 1.
Ac? (V)
s? s?
s ^
9 "^7
9 9
Tricks : A B, o ; Y Z, i.
Trick 2.
Y
'EM'
♦ ♦
B
Z
Tricks : A B, o ; Y Z, 2
Trick 3.
\
Tricks : A B, o ; Y Z, 3.
Trick 4.
^t.
♦ ♦
0 o
O 0
t
Tricks : A B, i ; Y Z, 3.
Trick 5.
Y
9 9,
9 9
9^9
9 9
B
Tricks : A B, i ; Y Z, 4.
Trick 6.
t
9 9
9
9 9
9
9 9
e
:!■
Tricks : A B, i ; Y Z, 5.
Trick 7.
4. 4.
1^ ♦! !F^"^
,♦ --^1
♦ ^*
i B
♦n-
Tricks : A B, i ; Y Z, 6.
Trick 8.
*+?!
o o
0 Oi
_0J
Tricks : A B, i ; Y Z 7
Trick 9.
Y
0
o
o o
o
o
Tricks: A B, i; Y Z, 8.
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Trick io.
219
Trick 12.
B 'a|
z z
Tricks : A B, 1 ; Y Z, 9. Tricks : A B, 2 ; Y Z, 9. Tricks ; A B, 3 ; Y Z, 9.
Trick 13.
Tricks ; A B, 4 ; Y Z, 9.
Thus Y Z win three by cards, and the game.
Remarks : —
Tricks 2 and 3. — If all five diamonds are to his right — as they happen to
be — Z can only win three tricks in the suit. Directly B gets in
he will clear hearts, and if A held five originally, with the ace of
clubs for entry, he will save the game if Z loses the lead a second
time before it is won. Consequently Z must either draw the ace
of clubs, or win a trick in the suit, before opening diamonds, and
at the same time he should get rid of dummy's blocking card in
spades. He does not run any risk of losing the game by the club
ead, because if either adversary holds five the other only holds
one, and they cannot, however they play, win four tricks in the
suit Z makes a certainty of winning the game against any possible
distribution of the cards.
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^^'^^':^^..^^
BOOKS ON SPORT
Creatures of the Night. A Book of Wild Life in Western
Britain. By Alfred W. Rees. Illustrated. London :
John Murray. 1905.
Ianto the Fisherman, and Other Sketches of Country Life.
Same Author and Publisher.
It is difficult to imagine a more sympathetic student of animal
life than Mr. Alfred Rees, whose work, contributed to various
periodicals and altogether worthy of reissue in permanent form, is
here brought together. The creatures of the night, whose lives he
draws in vivid detail, have no secrets from him ; he seems to know
them as they know each other, and his knowledge may be described
as lovingly imparted. The otter cub whom he calls Lutra has
several sketches to himself, and appears incidentally in others with
Brighteye, the water vole, his cousin Kweek, the field vole — one of
the best pictures is of the sudden appearance of the weasel to terrify
the little things and their tiny family — Vulp, the fox, Puss, the
hare, and Brock, the badger. As we lately observed in reviewing
Mr. J. G. Millais's remarkable volumes on Mammals, the otter and
the badger are peculiarly interesting animals for the reason that
comparatively so few people know anything about either; but
Mr. Rees knows much, practically all that can be known, we are
inclined to think, by a human friend — for it is in the spirit of friend-
ship that he writes, and we are almost surprised to find him
describing himself as ** returning homeward after a day among the
grouse." He is, however, something of a sportsman, with the vein of
sympathy to which reference has been made always prominent, as
indeed it invariably is in those who do credit to the term.
The Master of Beagles will doubt whether Mr. Rees has the
proper appreciation of sport, nevertheless, when he reads the account
of what happened once when in pursuit of Puss. He and his com-
panion, Ivor, heard the hunt approach, and crouching in the bracken
which grew along the ditch by the side of the lane, waited till the
hare came shambling, as it chanced, straight towards them. Ivor
grabbed her by the hind legs, placed the other hand over her mouth,
and, springing up, hid behind a neighbouring bank. The pack
came on and went by ; then, after dipping the hare in a stream which
ran at hand, he let her go. " A wretched-scenting day ; scent very
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BOOKS ON SPORT 221
bad," was the criticism of some of the field when they afterwards
met. Another sketch of a hunt is with bassets, of whom it is said
that *' of all the hounds employed in the chase of the hare, the basset
promises to become the prime favourite among some true-hearted
sportsmen who love sport for its own sake and not from a desire to
kill, Mirthfulness and dignity seem to seek expression in every
movement of the quaint, old-fashioned little hound and in every
line of his face. As for his music — who would expect such a deep,
bell-like note from this queer midget, standing not much higher than
the second button of the huntsman's leggings ? ''
Those who desire to learn the ways and habits of the denizens
of field, wood, and stream could not find a more admirable guide
than Mr. Rees.
Peterkins. The Story of a Dog. Translated from the German of
Ossip Schubin by Mrs. John Lane. With numerous drawings
by CoUington Taylor. London : John Lane, The Bodley
Head. 1906.
Mrs. Lane has done well to introduce Peterkins to English
readers ; for, as she says, "We owe to his genial creator, Ossip Schu-
bin, a new and delightful friendship, even if it is only a little dog's."
The German author's reputation as a novelist is well known to many
English readers, and to more Americans, for her books are widely
popular across the Atlantic. This history is a new departure for
her, but it is written with an affectionate regard for the subject
which cannot fail to be shared by her readers. Poor little Peter-
kins had very varied experiences — slight as is Mrs. Taylor's sketch
of him at the beginning of the book, one can realise that he is
** wondering why no one loves him," as he is said to be. Soon,
however, someone does, a dear little girl called Betty, whose com-
panionship he mightily enjoyed. He has other friends, too, to-
gether with some unappreciative enemies whom the reader will
hate, and it is by means of one of these that he falls into the posses-
sion of a travelling acrobat who wants a performing dog. With
this man and his associates he has a cruel time till he runs away.
How he finds his beloved Betty and saves her life is set forth in
quite an exciting chapter ; and then, of course, he is made the pet
of the castle where Betty lives, and has the best of good times ever
after. Peterkins is entirely delightful.
A Shooting Catechism. By Col. R. F. Meysey-Thompson. 1
London : Edward Arnold. 1905. I
Is there " a vacant place in sporting literature " ? We are not by
any means sure, but Col. Meysey-Thompson thinks that there is, ^
i
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222 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
and that he may have filled it. In lately noticing his "Fishing
Catechism " we expressed a certain amount of wonder why he had
chosen the form of question and answer. Izaak Walton did it, but
then he was — Izaak Walton. When lesser men attempt the same
thing the result is different. There is almost necessarily a lack of
ease and flow, of literary style ; and then again, while many pertinent
queries are omitted, some of the replies leave lingering doubt.
" What is the most comfortable costume for the moors or for
partridge-shooting ? " the author makes his unknown interrogator
inquire. " Of what kind of leather should the garters be ? " " Are
boots or shoes the most comfortable ? " Well ! these are all little
matters which men decide for themselves. Some like knickerbockers ;
others abhor them, and always wear breeches. " Is there any
particular kind of overcoat that is better than another ? " Here
again who can lay down a general law? Similarly the novice is
supposed to seek information about shooting seats, cartridge bags,
etc. Col. Meysey-Thompson speaks from experience ; but his ways
may not always be the best.
In one thing we cordially agree with the author. If a man be
asked to shoot he should accept or refuse at the earliest possible
moment. To delay is unfair to the host, who cannot arrange his
party, and may destroy a pleasant week for somebody else who would
be asked if the guest first invited said that he could not go. The
writer's style is not all that it might be, and sometimes he is
puzzling. " Are the different hawks very prejudicial ? " he makes
his novice ask, and we really do not understand what he means ?
At times the author abandons his catechism and writes straight-
forwardly, the consequence being no little relief to the reader. Col.
Meysey-Thompson, however, is a sportsman of wide experience, and
what he has to say is always worth consideration.
The Why and Wherefore of Bridge. By G. T. Atchison and
A. J. G. Lindsell. London: Longmans, Green & Co. 1906.
The authors think it safe to assert that " never in the annals of
card-playing has any game attained such a speedy and widespread
popularity as Bridge," and they are probably correct, even if the
game be not quite of the overwhelming importance they imagine. The
literature of Bridge is certainly something stupendous, and a good
excuse is necessary for adding a volume to it ; but this the authors
have. Most writers, they point out, have their own pet theories, and
naturally wish to enforce them on their readers. Messrs. Atchison and
Lindsell have endeavoured to collate these dicta, and while indicat-
ing their own preferences— not to do so is well-nigh impossible — to
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BOOKS ON SPORT 223
state fairly the case for other views, leaving the final decision to the
reader.
Their interpretation of the unwritten laws of the game is some-
what severe. ** To declare or to pass at first sight is a distinct
intimation to your partner that your hand is either obviously strong
or weak ; while to hesitate and show perplexity is tantamount to
telHng your partner that you hold cards upon which you are nearly,
but not quite, strong enough to declare." You must therefore be
neither too abrupt nor too tardy ; but that is a counsel of perfec-
tion, for some men are impulsive, others constitutionally slow and
undecided. **Above all. Do not hesitate about doubling,'' is their
charge, printed in italics. ** Unless you finally do so it is grossly
unfair to give the slightest indication of such an intention." Certain
players will always be grossly unfair, it is to be apprehended, though
without meaning it, for the reason stated : they are slow in making
up their minds. On one point, however, we are glad to see a
criticism, and that is condemnation of the exasperating habit some
people have of playing a winning card **with a bang by way of
emphasising its calibre." For the rest, it must suffice to say that
the writers carry out the scheme they have laid down for themselves
with lucidity, and Bridge-players will find much to interest them.
Beauty of Figure : How to Acquire and Retain it by Means of
Easy and Practical Home Exercises. By Deborah Primrose.
Illustrated. London : William Heinemann. igo6.
These are the days of physical culture, and Miss Primrose's
contribution is entirely to the purpose. Her little preliminary essay
goes back to before the Stone Age, she touches on Egypt 7,000 years
ago, and glances at classic Greece, but speedily becomes practical,
and in no fewer than seventy-two figures — photographs of girls and
children — shows how her ideal may be reached, or at any rate
approached. There can be no doubt that a careful observance and
practice of Miss Primrose's rules will vastly benefit the health and
general well-being of those who follow her instructions.
My System : Fifteen Minutes' Work a Day for Health's Sake. By
J. P. Miiller. With forty-four illustrations from photographs.
London : The Anglo-Danish Publishing Company.
This is a book on the lines of the foregoing, the translation
being made from the fifth edition, the thirtieth thousand, of the
Danish original. Of the cheap edition 21,200 copies are printed,
figures which show beyond question the popularity and value of the
work.
NO. cxxvii. VOL xxii.^ February 1906 Q
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BADMINTON NOTA BENE
In sending: a youth to college the great question, of course, is,
To what will it lead ? In the case of the Kensington College, the
London Chamber of Commerce Examination Centre, it leads to an
appointment as soon as the student is qualified. The institution
was established in 1887 for the sons and daughters of gentlemen,
they are trained for various secretarial duties, one or two foreign
languages being specially recommended as part of the guaranteed
appointment course, and taught on a system devised by the
Principal. The College is situated at 143 and 145, Queen's Road,
Bayswater, where all particulars may be learned from the Secretary.
* * * * *
A really good hunting scene is one of the rarest of pictures.
Why it should be so it is difficult to say, for incidents of all kinds in
connection with the chase seem to lend themselves to illustration.
Few artists, however, can draw horses at all, fewer still can effec-
tively portray them in action, and there are some painters who can
do justice to the horse, but appear unable to put the man or woman
correctly on the creature's back. Among the few who do succeed
Mr. George Wright stands high, and we are indebted to Messrs.
E. W. Savory, Ltd., of Bristol, for permission to publish the spirited
drawing which does duty this month on the cover of the magazine.
Messrs. Savory have in their collection so many admirable pictures
that it was a difficult task to choose; but *' The Draw" is a good speci-
men of Mr. George Wright's excellent work.
♦ * * * ♦
The extraordmary interest taken in the collecting of stamps is
shown by the issue of the sixth edition of the ** Universal Standard
Catalogue of Postage Stamps,'* compiled by Messrs. Whitfield, King
and Co., of Ipswich. This is now quite a thick volume, and is
rendered of particular value by the 3,000 illustrations of stamps,
printed by special permission of the Board of Inlnnd Revenue. The
total number of stamps issued to date, as included in the catalogue,
it is interesting to note, is 19,778, of which 6,059 ^^e apportioned to
the British Empire, and only a little more than twice as many,
13,719, to the rest of the world.
The Editor is much gratified to announce that in the
March number of The BADMINTON MAGAZINE
there will appear a story by
Mr. LAWRENCE MOTT.
whose wonderfully vivid study of wild life in the far north
of Canada, given in his novel
J\iles of the Gree^t Heart*
has secured such brilliant and deserved success on both
sides of the Atlantic. The story is entitled
THE LIGHT OF A MATCH.
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A PRIZE COMPETITION
The Proprietors of the Badminton Magazine offer a prize or prizes
to the value of Ten Guineas each month for the best original photo-
graph or photographs sent in representing any sporting subject.
Competitors may also send any photographs they have by them on
two conditions : that they have been taken by the sender, and that
they have never been previously published. A few lines explaining
when and where the photographs were taken should accompany
each subject. Residents in the country who have access to shooting-
parties, or who chance to be in the neighbourhood when hounds are
running, will doubtless find interesting subjects ; these will also ht
provided at football or cricket matches, and wherever golf, cycling,
fishing, skating, polo, or athletics are practised. Racing and steeple-
chasing, including Hunt Meetings and Point-to-point contests,
should also supply excellent material. Photographs of Public School
interest will be specially welcome. j
The size of the prints, the number of subjects sent, the date of ,
sending, the method of toning, printing, and mounting, are all
matters left entirely to the competitors.
The Proprietors are unable to return any rejected matter
except under special circumstances, and they reserve the right of (
using anything of interest that may be sent in, even if it should not
receive a prize. They also reserve to themselves the copyright in
all photographs which shall receive a prize, and it is understood that «
all photographs sent are offered on this condition. .
The result of the February competition will be annoimced in the
April issue. ]
THE DECEMBER COMPETITION j
The Prize in the December competition has been divided among j
the following competitors: — Mr. K. E. Maclean, Labuan, B.N.
Borneo; Mr. Arnold Keyzer, Capetown; Lt. -Col. Crawford McFall, |
Brownestown House, Kilkenny; Mr. Shirley Stewart, Toronto, ^
Canada: Mr C. B. H. Mansfield, Lieutenant 8th Cavalry, Indian j
Army, Nowshera; Mr. J. T. Spittle, Pembroke College, Cambrid^^e; |
Mr. Stanley SeA^ell, Hexham-on-Tyne ; Mr. Charles J. Hankin.son, |
Bournemouth ; Mr. R. W. Cole, The College of Agriculture,
Downton, Salisbury; and Mr. A. Abrahams, Emmanuel College,
Cambridge.
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226 THE HADMINTON MAGAZINE
HADLOW HARRIERS HUNTING ON A COLD SCENT
Photograph by Mr. IV. J. Abrey, Tonbridge
FINISH OF THE KERBAN RACE AT THE LABDAN NEW YEAR SPORTS, I905
Photograph by Mr. K. E. Maclean, Labuan, B.N. Borneo
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PRIZE COMPKTITION
227
H. N. SIMSON'S cades WINNING THE GRAND METROPOLITAN HANDICAP AT
KENILWORTH, SOUTH AFRICA
Photograph by Mr. Arnold Keyzer, Capetown
FERRETING AT KILFERA, KILKENNY
Photograph by Lt.-Col. Crawford McFall, Brownestown House, Kilkenny
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228 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
HURDLE RACK, CHELTENHAM
Photograph by Miss G. Murray, Holmains, Cheltenham
BOB-WHITE QUAIL FEEDING — ONE OF THE PRINCIPAL GAME BIRDS OF AMERICA
Photograph taken in Western Ontario hy Mr. Shirley Stewart, Toronto, Canada
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PRIZE COMPETITION
229
CHILDKBN BATHING, MUSKOKA LAKHS, CANADA
Phntnutath by Mr. Shirley Stewart, Toronto, Canada
READY TO GO
Photograph by Mr. F. H, Ilutton, Lincoln
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230
THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
SOWARS IN THE 8tH CAVALRY, INDIAN ARMY, TRICK RIDING
PJwtosraph by Mr. C. B. II. Mansfichi, Lieutenant Sth Cavalry, Indian Army, Sowshera
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PRIZE COMPETITION
231
NEWCASTLK EXCHANGK WALK TO H ALTWH ISTLE, 40J MILES
Photoiifath bv Mr H. F. Sen ell. Mount I'Uasunt, Hexhamon-Tyne
TWO KEEN SPORTSMEN ON TnE BANKS OF THE LYN, NORTH DEVON
Photograph by Mr. IT. 0. E. Muuie-King, Maidenhead
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232 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
freshmen's sports at CAVIhRID(iE— the mUNDKKO YARDS
Photograph by Mr. J. T. Sfittle, Pembroke College, Camhrif^e
LADIES CURLlN(i RINK, ST. MORllZ — AN hXClTING MOMENT
t'ht'to^raph by Mrs. Aubrey Le Blond, Taynton, Gloucester
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PRIZE COMPETITION
2.5.5
THE THORNYCROFT MOTOR-BOAT RACING AT COWES RKGATTA
Photograph by Miss Dean, Yarmouth, Isle of IVif^ht
MR. C. ROBTNS'S LRPANTO, WINNER OF THE GRAND NATIONAL STEEPLECHASK
AT KENILWORTH, SOUTH AFRICA
Photograph by Mr. Arnold Keyzer, Cape to un
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234 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
A FLYER — HEXHAM STEEPLECHASES
Photograph by Mr. Stanley Scwfll, Hexham-on-Tyme
A PRIZE LITTER
f'hotograph hy Mr. Charles J. Hankinson. Hournemouth
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PRIZE COMPETITION 235
PUNTING ON THE AVON UNDER DIFFICULTIES
Photograph by Mr. R. W. Cole, The College of Agriculture, Downton, Salisbury
BXTRACTING A JAMMED LIVE CARTRIDGE WITH AN AXE AT ONE OF THE PORTAGES
OF THE NIPIGON RIVER, CANADA
Photograph by Mr. A. R. MacGregor, Anerley
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236 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
NttWMARKET AND THURLOW FOXHOUNDS
Photograph by Mr. Thos. E. Grant, Leytonstone
A GARDEN STEEPLKCHASR
Photograph by Mr. A. Abrahams, Emmamul College, Cambridge
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GOING OUT FOR THB NATIONAL ON SAPPER
The Badminton Magazine
SPORTSMEN OF MARK
v.— MR. GWYN SAUNDERS-DAVIES
BY ALFRED E. T. WATSON
Of late years no one has done more to uphold the reputation of the
gentleman-rider, as representing each half of that compound word,
than Mr. Gwyn Saunders-Davies. To compliment a gentleman on
his integrity is practically an insult, and nothing need therefore be
said of the manner in which Mr. Saunders-Davies has conducted his
Turf lifie ; whilst as to his capacity in the saddle, it may be doubted
whether any horseman, amateur or professional, has ever equalled
his recoird of races ridden and won under National Hunt Rules. In
all, from 1882 when he began, till 1903 when he abandoned the
saddle, he had taken part in 1,068 events, and had carried off 332
of thenn ; but this is looking at the wrong end of Gwyn Davies's
career, and we must begin at the beginning.
Descended from an old Welsh family, the subject of this sketch
was born in 1865, and at the age of nine went to the well-known
school near Slough, kept by the father of Charles Hawtrey, the
popular comedian and best of good fellows. I am inclined to fancy
that it was rather out of doors than in the schoolroom that the
youthful Gwyn chiefly distinguished himself. Among his ambitions,
NO. cxxviii. VOL XXII. March 1906 ^
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2^8 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
to be Senior Wrangler can never have been included, though he has
always had a head for figures. If he gained many prizes they are
not obtrusively conspicuous on the shelves of his bookcase at Myrtle
Grove, but two years after bis entrance he was captain of cricket.
In 1878 he went to Winchester, and played in the school eleven in
1881 and 1882, with such good men as J. W. Mansfield, Ruggles
Brise, A. R. Cobb, and G. W. Ricketts. ]
The Army was the career that Tiad been mapped out for him,
and as French was one of the subjects he had to take up, he was
put in charge of a tutor at Dinard, where, however, after being in
training for six months and starting for the event, he could not
quite draw the weight in the preliminary examination in that
language, and what he should do next became a question. It was
in this same year, 1882, that Gwyn Davies first rode between the
flags. The race was the Lawrenny Hunt Cup, at a meeting origi-
nated and supported entirely by Mr. Lort Phillips. This Lawrenny
Hunt Cup was the race of the day. Entries were made by invi-
tation ; that is to say, only those invited to enter could compete,
so that none but personal friends of Mr. Lort Phillips were among
the starters, and the horses were chiefly ridden by their owners. The
course was a very stiff one, a deep and formidable natural brook
being one of the obstacles, and into this two of the riders disap-
peared. One head presently emerged from the surface of the water,
and as its owner was crawling to land he heard a cry from behind
him of ** Halloa, Bertie !" Turning round, he saw the other victim
of a bad mistake scrambling ashore. ** Halloa, Marteine ! " he ex-
claimed, and they both roared with laughter, each at the ridiculous
plight of his half-drowned friend, than which nothing could have
looked more comic in the estimation of either.
Mr. Lort Phillips won his own race himself. His young friend
was making the running, and as they galloped along the cheery
host called out encouragingly, " Go it, Gwyn ! " It was merely
a friendly cheer, but Gwyn fancied it meant that he was not going
fast enough, put on more steam, and, going in fact too fast, rode his
horse down, finishing only a bad fourth. The first race he won was
at the Tivyside Hunt during the next season, three miles over
banks, on Colonel Howell's Jane Shore.
The Army idea was not given up, however, and in 1883 the
possible future field -marshal went to gain further instruction from
Mr. Faithful, a tutor at Storrington, who was deservedly in great
vogue; and by his assistance his pupil's preliminary was successfully
accomplished.
In January 1884 the Saunders-Davies family chanced to be
staying at Tenby during the race week, and Gwyn had a ride
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MR. GWYN SAUNDERS-DAVIES
R 2
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240 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
or two. A redoubtable opponent in one race was that present ener-
getic member of the National Hunt Committee, Captain " Wenty "
Hope-Johnstone, who, however, had the bad luck to come down
heavily and break his collar-bone. He had a horse called Master
Ronald in a race next day, and to the great delight of Gwyn Davies,
who cordially appreciated the compliment from such a source, asked
him to ride it. He donned the black, cherry cap, as proud as a
couple of kings. Amongst other things a beginner has to learn in
race riding, however, is that if he chooses to come up on the inside
he must do so at his own risk. The young amateur made such an
attempt, not realising that Joe Rudd, who was in those days a famous
jockey, was not very likely to be obliging enough to pull out for him,
and the consequence was that Gwyn Davies found himself flying
over the wing of a fence, that "wing " being a full-grown and formid-
able Welsh bank. No particular damage was done, his pride as
aforesaid being chiefly injured, because he realised that he had
dorie a stupid thing; and be was equally surprised and
delighted therefore when Captain Hope-Johnstone, running up to
see if he was hurt, and finding that no damage Was done, with
characteristic kindness asked Gwyn if he would ride a mare
called Constance in the next race. How he jumped at the
chance need not be said. While the owner was giving him a leg up
he quietly observed : " Look here, you'd better jump every fence in
the middle; don't bother about the inside," and carrying out these
instructions, Constance was enabled to win in a canter. There was
a Consolation Stakes to wind up with, and just as Master Ronald
was being led off" home it occurred to Captain Hope-Johnstone that
he might as well have a go for this prize, as the horse was none the
worse for his tumble. Gwyn Davies rode him, and won easily; and
that afternoon practically decided his future. ' Praise from Captain
Hope-Johnstone was praise indeed, and he said such nice things to his
successful jockey that Gwyn Davies began to hesitate about joining
a service the duties of which would be likely to interfere with his
passion for the saddle — though twenty years ago leave, was much
more easily obtained by soldiers who wanted to go 'chasing than it
is in these stricter days, which goes far to account for the lack of
gentlemen-riders in the service.
It happened about this time that a friend of the family was a
lady whose son was making a lot of money in America, and Mrs.
Saunders- Davies saw no reason why her son should not go and do
likewise if he were not keen about a military career. The choice
was between America and a return to Storrington, and in June 1884
he sailed for South America, to discover that money might be lost
as well as made in that part of the world. Two years and a half
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MR. GWYN SAUNDERS-DAVIES 241
found him plus a great deil of experience, minus the capital with
which he had started ; so he returned home and sought occupation
in training and riding steeplechase horses, chiefly for one of his
brothers. Of the animals which he had to take care of, a mare called
Fairj- Queen, a grey daughter of Happy Land and Ethelreda, proved
about the best, and was more than useful in her own class. This
was not the highest, as owner and trainer discovered when after a
series of successes at small meetings she was occasionally produced
at Sando^vn or Kempton. She won little races at country meetings
with such ease that it struck them she must be capable of holding
her own in higher company, but at the Parks better animals ran
away from her. The mare won no fewer than forty-two races, in
forty-one of which her trainer rode her ; on the other occasion he
THB BIRTHPLACE OF MR. G SAUNDBRS-DAVIBS
missed his train, and a substitute had to be found at the last minute;
that is to say, the boy who " did " her at home was put up.
By this time Mr. Saunders-Davies's reputation had grown so
high that he was naturally ambitious of finding an extended scope
for his work, and in 1896 he left Wales to train privately for his
friend Mr. Reid Walker in Staffordshire. That engagement lasted
only a year, however, and he then started as a public trainer at
Clewe Hill near Cheltenham. Another friend. Sir Peter Walker,
was one of his supporters ; Missionary was among the animals sent,
and on this useful son of Timothy and Sahara Mr. Saunders-Davies
took several races, in one of them beating Hidden Mystery, who was
prominent among t e best steeplechase horses of modern times.
Missionary had only 2 lb. the best of the weights, and won by three
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242 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
lengths. He was a desperately hard puller, and one day a friend of
Sir Peter's and of the trainer's, having remarked that he "could
hold a bull," was asked if he would care to ride a gallop on Mis-
sionary. Nothing, he said, would delight him more; that was just
precisely the sort of horse he loved to ride ; and as for pulling — ^they
would see ! What they saw within a few minutes of the powerful
horseman being put up into the saddle was Missionary disappearing
over the horizon, and Sir Peter, in Derbyshire, received a wire,
simply containing the words : " Missionary last seen going north.
Has he passed Osmaston yet ? " It is a long way from Clewe Hill
THE FIRST LESSON AT THE GATE
to Osmaston Manor, but the horse looked as if he was going to get
there.
In 1899 it happened that a connection of mine, a young cavalry
officer, Captain H. A. Johnstone, determined to buy some horses,
and asked me to manage them. The jumpers I consequently
begged Mr. Saunders-Davies to train. He wanted horses badly,
having many empty boxes. It is difficult, indeed, to find a trainer
who does not want horses; there is always room for just a few
more than he has, or if there is not room he can make it ; but
Mr. Saunders-Davies did a very characteristic thing. Interview-
ing the owner, he said that it would certainly give him particular
pleasure to receive any horses he might like to send, but at the same
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MR. GWYN SAUNDERS-DAVIES 243
time he felt bound to tell him, as he was young at the game, that
if he were starting with any idea that money was to be made,
whether he proposed to bet or not, it would be judicious to abandon
the project ; with fair luck, he might make both ends meet ; on
the other hand it was extremely probable that he would find
the sport expensive. The result, however, was that Cushendun,
whom I had bought from my friend the late Colonel McCalmont for
400 guineas, and some others, went to Clewe Hill, including a horse
called Monti, own brother to Timon, who ran remarkably well in
Manifesto's National, but turned out worthless. Cushendun, a son
of Colonel McCalmont's Ascot Cup winner Timothy, had a string
halt ; some of the experts declared he was lame as he was led out at
O DONOVAN ROSSA LEAPING UP OFF SAND BED
Tattersairs, his hocks were criticised as weak, and indeed few
people except myself liked him ; but he proved to be a good horse
until a leg which affected him early in his career developed into
serious mischief. He was only once beaten as a four-year- old, and
that in a race which he ought to have won — unfortunately Mr. Davies
did not ride him on this occasion ; and as a five-year-old one of six
races in which he was successful was the Great Sandown Steeple-
chase, which he won by ten lengths with 12 st. 71b. on his back.
That he stood as long as he did is remarkable testimony to his
trainer's skill.
In 1903, Cushendun, probably because his leg worried him, became
very intractable, and some time after he had left Mr. Saunders-
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Z44 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Davies's stable Woodland the trainer — a master when dealing
with ** difficult " horses — begged to be allowed to take him in hand.
His idea was to put him in a cart, which he thought would perhaps
quiet him down. In a cart he was put accordingly, and he left the
yard. What happened afterwards is not precisely known. Little
bits of wood and iron were picked up over a radius of a mile or
two, but anything distantly resembling a cart was never seen again;
not even identifiable portions of the vehicle could be collected. It
is thought that he may have kicked, an accomplishment in which
he shone, his leg notwithstanding.
He stayed, had a very useful turn of speed, and in 1901 his
trainer was quite sanguine about his chances for the Grand National,
in which he had list. 2 lb. to carry. This was the year of the
blizzard. Snow lay two or three inches deep on the course, and
blew about in dense whirling clouds. Owners, trainers, and jockeys
petitioned for a postponement of the race, but the stewards decided
that it must be run, with the result that of twenty-four starters I
think I am right in saying that only seven finished. Cushendun
slipped up on his side in the middle of a field after going about
five furlongs, and the trainer-jockey came back disconsolate.
Captain Johnstone, like most soldiers who run steeplechase
horses, was anxious to win the Grand Military Gold Cup, and
searching about for an animal likely to accomplish this feat, I heard
of a 'chaser who had had a successful career in Ireland, called Boreen-
chreeogue. Mr. Saunders-Davies agreed with me that this was an
animal to be bought if possible, and went over to Ireland to see if it
could be got for fifteen hundred guineas, with a preference, however,
for not going beyond a thousand. I have elsewhere published the
story of his expedition, and fear to repeat it in detail lest the reader
may have come upon it before. The owner of Boreenchreeogue— I
shortened it to Boreen — stuck out for his price, thrice Mr. Saunders-
Davies got into his cart and drove to the gate, to be beckoned back
and told that a hundred would be knocked off: and ultimately he
got the horse for eleven hundred guineas and a contingency of
another five hundred if he won the National or the Manchester
Steeplechase ; a contingency which however had to be squared, as
horses that go for the Grand Military Cup must be free from con-
tingencies of any sort. I asked poor Reggie Ward to ride, and we
all went down to Cheltenham one day in order that we might give
the horse a school over fences next morning, when, however, the fog
was so dense that the idea of the gallop had to be abandoned.
Boreen ran disappointingly, only being able to get third to Lambay
and Covert Hack ; and next day in the United Service Steeplechase
did worse still, for he was unable to beat Scotland Yard, a five-year-
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MR. GWYN SAUNDERS-DAVIES Z45
old, to whom, however, he was endeavouring to concede 2st.
Mr. Saunders- Davies won the Newmarket Spring Handicap Steeple-
chase on him after he had made such a mistake at the water that
his recovery was little short of a miracle. Two fences from home
he looked like winning the Manchester Steeplechase, but over-
jumped himself; and having strained the muscles of his quarters at
Liverpool was never of any use subsequently, though his trainer
again distinguished himself by getting him round, sufficiently to
enable hinvto start more than once.
An extraordinary race won by Mr. Saunders-Davies was run at
AN OFF DAY
Hereford in 1891. He was on his brother's horse Magot,and at the
second fence the animal blundered, came down on his head, and got
the bit out of his mouth. He was a fine fencer, and recovermg him-
self— chiefly of his own accord, of course, his rider having next to
no power over him — followed Mintridge, ridden by Mr. W. A. Villar,
round the course, jumping all the fences without accident. Nearing
home he got on even terms with the leader and actually won a head !
One of the illustrations represents a quaint incident which
would certainly not be comprehensible without explanation. At
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246 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Totnes, in 1897, Mr. Saunders-Davies was riding a horse called
Prince Arthur. Half a mile from home this most extraordinar)'
steeplechase course crosses the river, and in the midst of the stream
the horse got his foot in the martingale and fell, unfortunately with
his rider under him. Before the jockey was quite drowned, how-
ever, the animal began to struggle violently, and his drenched pilot
— pilot seems an appropriate term in this particular case— was
enabled to slip from under him. He had, naturally, lost his whip,
which he valued, as it had been given him by Mr. C. S. Newton in
"CAN ANYONE SBB MV WHIP?'
remembrance of a race won in the brown and yellow hoops. A
crowd of people were on the bank, and to them the dripping jockey
shouted, ** Can anyone see my whip ? " One wag suggested that the
mouth of the river should be watched ; however, whilst Mr. Saun-
ders-Davies hurried off to change for and ride in the next race his
brother came down from the stand, and got some boys to paddle
and hunt for the lost trophy. An enterprising snapshooter took
the photograph, a reproduction of which appears.
The best horse Mr. Saunders-Davies ever rode he has no hesi-
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MR. GWYN SAUNDERS-DAVIES 247
tation in saying was Cloister. He was a very hard puller and carried
his head extraordinarily low, but approaching a fence his rider would
see him cock his ears, and knew that all was well. Mr. Saunders-
Davies has also ridden Manifesto, the other 12 st. 71b. hero of
Liverpool. This was at Sandown, a month after the National, with
the Manchester race intervening, and the great horse ran wretchedly.
On Cloister Mr. Saunders-Davies won the Welsh Grand National
at Cardiff, and horse and jockey being alike favourites the scene of
enthusiasm was a memorable one. An extraordinarily good horse
over banks on which he has won races was Covert Hack, though
the rider was fortunate in ever having the mount. The day before
the race in which Covert Hack was to take part at Punchestown
Mr. Lushington, wanting a jockey, asked Mr. Saunders-Davies if
he would ride an animal for him whom he described as a *' clinking
jumper," suggesting that it would be a 'good thing to have a ride
over the course just to see what it was like. Mr. Saunders-Davies
gladly consented, got up, and set off gaily, to be turned over at the
very first fence, into which the horse galloped without attempting to
rise. As a matter of fact the animal was quite blind, a circumstance,
however, which was not discovered till afterwards !
Mr. Saunders-Davies, being a careful man, has kept a record of
every race in which he has ridden under National Hunt Rules. As
already stated he has been up in 1,068, has won 322 times, been
placed 364 times, unplaced 372, and has had 103 falls. These
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248 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
figures, it will be seen, are really something wonderful. He has
been in the first three 686 times, and only failed to get a place when
his horse has not fallen on 269 occasions.
From Cheltenham Mr. Saunders-Davies removed to Weyhill, a
place which seems especially lucky, for everyone who goes there
appears to start successfully. He did so, though his luck was not
well maintained, and in 1901 he removed to his present establish-
ment at Myrtle Grove, picturesquely situated in Sussex, with
excellent stables and some of the best gallops in the country.
Mr. A. M. Singer*s horses occupied most of the boxes on his arrival,
and this gentleman, determining to take to breeding thoroughbred
AT THB SEASIDE
stock there, made paddocks and erected buildings which seemed
likely to be one of the joys of Mr. Saunders-Davies's life; but in a
few months Mr. Singer changed his mind, no doubt to the great
regret of his friend. With flat-race horses as well as jumpers the
Myrtle Grove trainer has been notably successful. It is easy to win
with good animals, but he has carried off a considerable number
of stakes with very bad ones, though no specially notable prizes
have fallen to his charges except the Stewards' Cup at Goodwood,
which was won in 190 1 by O 'Donovan Rossa, who was in great
form about that time. The wayward Bridge was another who was
often there or thereabouts in short races, and Rambling Katie left
Myrtle Grove to win her second Manchester Cup.
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MR. GWYN SAUNDERS-DAVIES 249
I must tell one little story about Myrtle Grove and its trainer
which struck me as particularly amusing, and appealed to
Mr. Saunders-Davies's sense of humour. In all training stables
the boys seem to find an invincible attraction to the nearest town
where there is a telegraph office. They are anxious, indeed, to send
away such items of information as they think will be of profit to
their correspondents, and though trainers are aware that their lads
cannot know much, the head of a stable prefers to have his affairs
discussed as little as possible. The boys from Myrtle Grove
resembled their brethren at other places, and one of the excuses for
a journey to the post office was a wish to back a horse. Realising
this, Mr. Saunders-Davies interviewed his head lad. If the boys
CARDINALEA TAKING A SAND BATH
wanted to bet, he said, he would turn bookmaker; that is to say,
the head lad might let them know that they could always be on at
starting price, and his master would find (or receive) the money.
Most of their wages, it was anticipated, would be retained at home
by their employer ; and this little matter was arranged just before
the Goodwood Meeting last year. Mr. Saunders-Davies had told
me about it, chuckling at the idea of killing two birds with one
stone — teaching the boys not to bet and pocketing the price of the
lesson. They were going to make a little purse and put it all on
something for the Stewards' Cup.
" What did your boys pick for the race ? " I asked him after the
numbers had been hoisted.
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250 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
** Xeny, confound them ! " he replied.
Xeny had started at 25 to i, and the Myrtle Grove backers had
£6 or £j on. This, however, is an accident not likely to happen
often, and if the arrangement continues it is not difficult to guess
who will have the best of it in the long run.
At present nearly a score of owners have horses under the care
of the subject of this memoir. For one thing, they like to be asso-
ciated with a friend, and for another they know that their animals
could not have a more skilful and conscientious guardian. It is a
very general hope that some day Myrtle Grove will harbour a real
** smasher " who will come out and sweep the board.
MYRTLB GROVE
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^THE LIGHT OF A MATCH
BY LAWRENCE MOTT
Wave upon wave in the wind, undulation on undulation, the wheat
fields rippled their wealth. The glorious August sun heated the air
with shimmering tenseness, baking the short grass on the wild,
lands, but urging on the feathered ears of grain to finer growth and
proportion. Far away, like shreds of veils, faint clouds were scat-
tered over the horizon, timidly reaching out overhead as though
afraid of the scorching rays. The light hot wind that played along
was laden with the smell of the grain, tainted with the green reek of
the sloughs.
On the top of a rise was a squatter's home ; rough and grey it
looked in the fierce sunlight. A shed for the horses, an apology for
a granary, a miserable coop for some chickens, completed the little
group of buildings. Hysterically a hen cackled, announcing that
rare thing on the North- Western prairie, a fresh egg.
The clatter of a stool, a rush of footsteps, and Samuel King
tumbled helter-skelter from the low fly-beset doorway.
" Marthy ! Marthy ! ** he shouted, shrilly, his voice dying away
on the instant in the burning atmosphere, " Susan's laid a egg fo'
sure this time ! "
Still cackling, the speckled hen retreated, he advancing eagerly
to her nest under the stable sill.
•* I got it, Marthy, I got it ! "
Brown, oblong, and warm it lay in his rough palm.
" Thank ye, Susan." He drew the sweat from his forehead with
a quick accustomed motion. The hen perched angrily on a plough-
' All English and American rights reserved.
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252 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
share and cackled on vociferously. Then from over in the comer of
the yard a cock crowed its harsh tones, softened by the heat.
'* Thankye, too, Dick," old Sam said, gravely, and went back
to the log house.
'* Thar, girl ! a right fresh egg I got fur ye ! " He placed it
carefully on the table.
The interior was small and neat ; a bed, a table, three chairs,
and a rusty stove were its only furnishings. Clothes dangled here
and there from wooden pegs on the wall, worn boots peered forlornly
from beneath the attic ladder — nothing more. She looked up at him,
eyes tremulous and pleading.
*' It's so hot, Sam,'* she murmured, from her position by the
crack of the north door. ** It's so hot ! "
** Aye, girl ; but ye must eat ! Ye hain't ate nothin' fur two
days ! "
She gave a quick, petulant motion.
*' I don't want anything ! "
With a deep sigh the old man sat down, while the blistering
heat grew. He looked fondly and with great pride over the vast
acres that belonged to him ; acres that were heavy in weight, golden
with dollars — money.
** Aye, money," he whispered ; ** money ter give her everythin*
she wants, money ter make up ter her incause I'm old, money ter
make her happy ! An' it's all out thar, out thar ; growin', fillin' ter
twenty-five and thirty dollars an acre ; an', by God, it's fur her ! "
** What are you muttering about, Sam ? " the girl asked, tossing
uncomfortably in the tiny breeze that came from the north-west.
'* About you, girl ; alius about you ; I ain't got nawthin' else ! "
She stood up wearily, smoothing her rough blouse and skirt,
throwing back the loose damp masses of hair that clung about her
face. She was beautiful, but the great hazel eyes had something
unanswerable in them, something that no man could fully understand,
** It's frightful hot, Sam," she said, moving to him. " I'm
choking — here ! " She tore at her throat.
** Girl, girl ; since yer father gi'en yer ter me as wife, I've loved
ye all I knowed how. I'm only an old man, an' a rough one, but
rd — rd — " he looked about in desperation — "I'd give up any-
thin' ye asked, ef et wuld make ye happy."
"Dear old Sam," she whispered, "dear old Sam. I know ye
would give me anythin' I wanted ! " She turned from him impul-
sively and threw herself down by the north door again.
He jumped to his feet, the strong old figure alert and keen, his
eyes bright, and flashing a strange gleam from beneath their shaggy
brows.
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THE LIGHT OF A MATCH. :^3
** What d'ye want then ? I giv's yer money, I giv*s yer clones,
I giv's yer my old life, an' I worships yer, girl ; ain't that enough ? "
She looked at him steadily for a moment, while the flies buzzed
and sang, while the heat grew in its suffocating strength.
" Sammy," she spoke with an effort, almost forcing the words,
** Sammy, I've loved yer like a — " she hesitated — ** like a woman
should ; but I'm lonely ! " ' ■ ■
The old man looked at her ; then turned away with an ineffable
sadness in his eyes.
" Aye," he muttered, " she's lonely ! "
Thus the afternoon passed in reeking, sweltering hours.
Slowly the broiling sun sank into a scarlet west ; degree by degree
the air cooled until, with the shadows of evening, the atmosphere
was less burning in its draught, less sweating in its grip.
" Girl ! " He crawled beside her. " Girl ! "
** Yes, Sammy." She woke from a welcome doze. ** What ? "
The old man fought with himself for an instant, then swallowed
Mrhat he wanted to say. " Ye know I loves yer, don't ye ? "
" Yes," she answered, slowly.
'* Ye know I'd sell my soul fur ye ; giv' up everythin' fur ye, ef
ye asked it ?
" Ye-es," more slowly.
** What is't then ye's wantin' ? Tell me, girl ; tell me, an' I'll
g^iv' it ye ef I can ! I hain't got much, but what's mine's yours.
Honey ; what d'ye want ? " The old man's voice was strong and
clear ; cracked a little with years perhaps, but ringing true.
She lifted herself on one elbow ; reached out and stroked the
long, grey hair affectionately, kindly.
" Sammy, I shouldn't talk this way, I shouldn't ; but a woman's
just a woman, Sammy ; ye can't a 1\^ ays understand her ways, nor
see the meanin' of her words ; a woman's a cur'ous thing, Sammy ! "
She sank back slowly into the little draught that stole in under the
north door.
** Aye girl, but ye'r the only woman in the world ; ye'r honest,
ye'r squar' to me, and I — I, by God," he burst into deep sobs that
disturbed the quiet, ** I'm only a rough old man ! "
His sorrow appealed to her. She smoothed his wet forehead
tenderly, and caressed the worn, gnarled hands.
** Never mind, Sammy, never mind ; women don't know when
they're well off, they're fools sometimes ; that's Nature, Sammy."
" Natur' ! What's Natur' ? " he said, standing up. '* I loves ye,
and ye know it ; but I'm old and cain't go galivantin' round ter
da.nces and sich, incause all the strength I got I want ter use in
makin' money fur ye — out in the wheat." He waved his thin arms
wo. cxxviii. VOL. xxn.— March 1906 S
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254 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
towards the doorway through which the stars now flickered and
gleamed. *' That's the Natur* I knows — the sun, rain, and frost ;
thar ain't no other, Marthy — is thar ? "
Her great hazel-brown eyes opened wide in the semi-gloom.
" Poor old Sammy," she whispered, softly, "poor old Sammy ;
alway$ the wheat ! *'
Silently he went out to the stables and gravely milked their only
cow, the warm white liquid hissing metallically in the tin pail. The
odour of straw soothed, the smell of the animal body before him
calmed his sorrow.
** Sho, Bess,'* — he slapped the gaunt beast playfully — " ye'r
gettin' shy o' milk ; grass is p'utty stiff, ain't it ? " The cow looked
at him over her shoulder and chewed her cud placidly.
** That's the only Natur' I knows," he muttered, as he went out
into the hot night. **Onct! " — he drew himself up proudly in his
old tattered overalls, his faded blue shirt — "Onct, it seems as though
I knowed somethin' different, but I've clean lost it ! "
His eyes wandered over the dark landscape. Grey-black and
far away the nearest rises in the prairie seemed ; stifling the air
came and went in his lungs ; eveh his long grey beard dripped with
the heat of his body. The darkness was laden with the invisible
noises of the night ; myriads of wings hummed as insects stung and
flew away. Out yonder coyotes yelped, their doleful voices rising
and falling as the draught breathed and died. Gophers whistled
sharply at the entrances of their holes, piercing the blackness with
sounds that tingled the ear. And over it all a sky spotted with
stars that wavered in their gleam as he looked at them. The old
man went and lighted a candle. By its flickering yellow sheen he
saw the girl tossing by the north door. Hurriedly he poured some
milk into a cracked coarse china cup.
" Here, Honey, have some o' this."
With half-opened eyes she took it and tasted, then flung it
from her.
** Sammy ! " she coughed ; ** I thought it was water."
He picked up the broken bits one by one and carefully threw
them out of doors.
** I'll get ye some water," he said, quietly, and took down a bright
bucket that shone faintly in the candle light.
She started up quickly.
** Never mind, Sammy, it isn't worth four miles walk."
But he was gone, and a breathless silence came on the interior,
broken only by the buzzing of flies and flappings of moths towards
the candle. She settled back to her old position, gasping for a cool
whiff of air.
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THE LIGHT GF A MATCH. 255
A figure appeared in the door — tall, lithe, and strong, with
steady blue eyes that had no furtive intention in them, even in the
candle-light.
** Martha ! " The voice was low, soft. " Martha ? '*
The girl sat up. " Here, Fred," she answered, quietly,,
With light steps he reached her side, blowing out the candle as
he passed.
*' Martha ! " he sought to kiss her.
" No, lad ! *' She pushed him away resolutely. ** It can't be."
** Why, why ? " the man begged, his tones vibrating with his
great feelings.
A silence between the two — deep silence. Then, " Because he
loves me, Fred ; that's enough ! "
" But he doesn't love you — he can't — as I do ! "
" Ssssh ! " she warned. ** Even if he can't give me everything
in the world, no one else has the right to, onless he says the word."
" I'll tell him, I'll show him how he can't, and he'll under-
stand."
" No, Fred, you mustn't, because he's honest in his love ;
are you ? "
She turned on him quickly,
"You know," he whispered, pressing her hand, "you know
what I have resisted for you ! " He stood up. *' I'll come to-night
for your answer, Martha — to-night."
Silence again.
A sultry hour and another passed on, she lying there battling
with herself.
** Here's water, girl ; fresh f om th' river, but I'm afeared it's a
trifle warm ! "
She drank eagerly in great gulping swallows the tepid water
that was in old Sam's bucket.
" It's not bad, Sammy," she murmured.
"I'm glad, Honey."
He sat on the door sill, slowly waving a kettle cover to-and-fro
for a breeze. The night became darker and more dark, closing in
over the prairies in sultry heaviness.
" I guess I'll turn in," he said presently, and stretched himself
in some blankets near the empty stove.
" I'll stay here awhile," the girl said, and edged herself as near
as possible to the north sill.
His heavy breathing was the only sound, while she listened and
ivaited. Hot, hot and more choking the night was, threatening a
thunderstorm or hail.
Sam King breathed hard because of his sorrow, because of his
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256 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
' helplessness. And then he slept. As though in answer to his last
^ waking thoughts, he heard a careful sound. He opened his eyes,
^ and, silhouetted against the star-speckled heavens of the door, saw
I two figures. Their outlines were sharp against the sky. He almost
cried out — but held his peace. No sound came from these two
] forms ; no whisper of their meaning, but he guessed who was one of
[ them. They passed out, stopped again, and one lighted a match.
[ No word aloud; only the look in their eyes at each other. The
match died out instantly. The sound of careful feet coming in the
I hut, then silence.
Through the long hot hours he tossed and turned. " She
keers fiir me, but she don't love me," he whispered, great beads of
sweat on his brow. "And how could she? — fool that I've been;
I'm not suited for the likes of her; 'taint nature, an' I knows what
she meaned this arternoon ; I knows what she meaned."
On one side the jealousy of a one-time youth urged him to
declare his knowledge and use his power of right ; on the other the
sense of justice to her made him helpless. He thought a long time.
" I'll do it — fur her," he whispered then. In a little while, when
she was quiet, he stole out bareheaded, in his coarsely-stockinged
feet, and walked slowly along the breast-high wheat.
t ** It was all fur her," he said aloud, mournfully, letting the
nearly ripe ears slide roughly through his fingers. Careless of his
steps he wandered here and there through the tall growth. Stems
cracked and broke, whole dozens of stalks were bent and crushed,
but he walked on. Then from far in the east crept the first green-
yellow tints of dawn. He stood still and watched the colours
change and brighten, brighten and change, till the lower heavens
were aglow, then ablaze, with the coming sun.
He leaned over impulsively, and drew handfuls of the standing
grain to his face, kissing it, rubbing it between the powerful old
hands.
** I've watched ye grow, as I hev her ; I tended ye, as I hev
her ; I'd not let one wind o' heaven hurt ye, all fur her, if I c'uld
help it ; an' now " — he flung away the crumbled remains, his hands
stained green — *' now I've got ter giv up to Natur an' Life, as ye've
got to be cut with th' reaper ! " His head sank on his chest, the
long beard flowing low. ** What for ? Is there a God in heaven ?
What for ? " He threw his arms towards the bright overhead.
The sun burst over the horizon in a fierce glare of power, gild-
ing the vistas of wheat, empurpling the last clouds of night that
vanished beyond the west, glowing the air with its might.
** Aye," he said, facing it, so that the light shone full on his
face, softening the outlines of his figure. " Aye, thar's the answer.
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THE LIGHT OF A MATCH. 257
an' it's true — true, it's Natur in all her glory. What's laws, what's
anythin' in life but Natur ? " He went back, bathed in the fierce
rays. When nearly at the hut he stopped again.
The morning draught played daintily about him, rustling the
grasses at his feet, stirring his beard and bushy eyebrows with gentle,
caressing softness. As far as his eyes could reach were fields — acres
— miles upon miles of gorgeous splendour of wealth. The ears of
wheat rolled, rippled, bowed, and rolled a^in to the south wind,
changing hue from brilliant yellow to shadowed green at each puff.
" It's all mine — mine,'* he said, dully, '* but what's the good ?
Money, aye; but money don't buy all I wish I culd giv her, an'
money don't buy what I want — an' can't have. Thar's no room in
life fur an old man like me. I've done my best, an' 'taint good
enough fur her ; I knows it, an' she's right, bless her, alius she's
right ; I'm wrong, but I'll make it squar to her, God helpin' me."
She woke as he entered.
''Sammy?"
*' Aye, Sammy," he answered, softly.
" Where've you been so early ? "
"Just seein' that th' grain's all right."
" Is it ? "
" Fur ye, girl, it's right an' growin', heapin' money with every
day's sun."
She winced in half awakedness, shrinking from his earnest
tones; and now he saw and was glad, for he had decided.
** A bit o' bacon ? — some gruel for breakest, girl ? "
She put her hands over her eyes ; they were clenched tight,
and he saw now that he knew what to look for. With a strong
heart he pretended that he did not see.
** Is it going to be hot again, Sammy ? "
He went to the door, standing in the blistering light.
" I'm afeared so, Honey ; but yon sun " — he looked almost
straight into its white heat — "gives us money, gives us" — he
stumbled in search of the word — " life ! "
She murmured something, and dozed again while he got some
breakfast.
« « « « »
The reaping was over. The crowd of men had gone, and the
vast fields no longer rang with the whirring of steel, the harsh
champing of toothed knives, the clattering chatter of binders. The
year's work was done. No hail, no frost, nothing had marred the
success of the crop, and the old man had a long credit account at
the bank in Brandon. He and his two men, load by load, took the
grain^to the railwayjelevator.- and watched it disappear in the dust
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258 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
funnels. Then it was all gone. Instead of the wavering wheat-
heads on stalk he had money — gold, that he could draw from the
bank, for it was his.
As he milked one night, he drew the bank-book from his inside
pocket. It was already chafed with the continual carrying.
** Six thousand dollars," he whispered. " Six thousand dollars !
rU take two hundred ; that'll get me far away some'ere an' leave
enough for her an' — him !"
The same familiar cow gazed placidly at him, whisking her
rough tail with a swi-sh — swi-sh — swi-sh that betokened annoyance
of the flies. The next day he went, while the girl was sewing at his
clothes, to the station.
** Gimme a ticket fur th' West."
" Whereabouts ? " the agent asked, noting this face more than
the others that passed his little window.
"As far as the line goes," King answered, slowly.
The sound of tearing paper, the dull clack-click of a hand-
stamp, then —
'* Here ye are ; all the way through British Columbia to the
Pacific, $60-50 ! "
The old man paid his money unseeing, and turned away.
•' Good for ten days only," the agent called after him.
For nine of these days he worked about the house, cleaning up,
straightening the farm implements, getting everything right. That
night, when the girl was asleep in the cold of the September frost,
he went out, and paced the deserted fields, his feet crunching softly
on the crust of the new earth. Glittering eerily, like distant winking
eyes, the stars shone on him, and he watched the flashing comets
trail their short sparkling course. The darkness was intensely
silent ; not even a breath of wind disturbed the absolute peace.
'* I'm goin' termorrow," he said aloud, "goin' so's she kin live.
Girl, ef ye only knowed how I loves yer ! Honey " His voice
broke and quavered. ** But I'm old, old, old — an' done ! Great
God," — he flung his arms wide — " I loves her with a young heart,
but I cain't show it. I'm too fond o' makin' money on th' land !
What I kin do is to giv' her all I hev' — an* go ; itn' I'm agoin'.
Fred's a good lad, clean an' honest ; an' since she loves him, since
that's Life, I kin only show my love by this." He drew in great
breaths of the night chill, and it strengthened him.
* ♦ * ♦ ♦
" Come over to the station this mornin'. Honey ; I got business
thar," he said, at breakfast.
She wondered then why he had on his best clothes, patched
and worn as they were — but his best.
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THE LIGHT OF A MATCH. 239
** Yes, Sammy, I'd like the drive, I think." She kissed him.
** Nothing wrong? "
•* No," he answered, steadily, *' nuthin' ! "
By a coincidence (that she did not know) Fred Halson joined
them, riding his new cayuse, a pretty beast, full of life and deviltry.
** Whar ye bound, Sam ? " he called gaily, looking at the girl.
** Over to th' station, lad ; come along."
Once there, he fastened the team securely to a fence-post.
" rU go to the store, Sammy," she said ; ** wait for me."
*• No, don't, girl ; I may want ye."
She was surprised ; but stayed willingly.
*' Sam," Fred shouted.
"What?"
" If thar's anythin' for me on th' express, take it home, will ye ?
I've got to go 'cross the road." He started away.
" Fred ! "
The young man stopped at the unusual command in the voice.
" Wait a minute, will ye ? Train 'II be here p'utty soon, an' I
may need ye."
" Oh, all right, Sam ; sure, ef I kin be of any use."
They walked up on the long platform together. The old man
contrived to leave the girl and the other, while he went along the
raised boards, his eyes focussing themselves on the long distance,
to a certain roll in the cold prairie where he knew was his home.
The skies were overcast and grey, chilling and repulsive. No faint
gleam of sunlight warmed his body, no ray of happiness soothed the
agony in his heart.
" For th' last time I look on ye, my lands — hers and his'n
now. But I'm content, incause she'll be happy ! "
To-ot — to-ot toot — toot. Far away yet, from the east, but
plainly discernible, came the whistling of the ej^press; and as he
vvatched towards the sound he saw a thread of black rising over the
prairie ; furling, folding, and dwindling away.
" She's comen'," he whispered, and turned swiftly to the two
that waited side by side.
'* Giri ! "
** You're sick, Sammy," she said, quickly, fearfully, seeing his
haggard face and eyes dulled.
" I wants ter speak ter ye a minute."
She walked with him, the young man waiting.
'* Thar's no use" — he coughed a moment as the rushing sound
of iron wheels came to them — ** thar's no use in tryin' ter pretend
a girl like you can love a rough old man like me/'
" Sammy I " she gasped, and stared in bewilderment.
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26o THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
" Thar's no good in it^ girl ; here — " he pulled out his bank
book, and some papers — " here's your credit — now at th' bank, an'
here's the deeds o' th' land ! " He forced them into her hands,
hurrying on — ** I'm goin', Honey, goin' out of your life, that I hain't
no right to ruin."
. She tried to interrupt.
"You've been squar' to th' old man, an' he kin appreciate
THAT ! " His words were drowned by the roar and rumble of the
long train as it came slowly to a standstill beside them.
** Snmmy ! " she said, dully, the heroic thing he was doing for
her numbing her mind.
He looked into her eyes for an instant, the whole of his great
love twisting his face as though in pain.
** And me, Sammy ? Without you " She stopped, his sacrifice
glaring into her soul. AH his kindness and rough tenderness, all
his little pathetic ways, all his honour and thoughtfulness, rushed
past, and, woman -like, she weighed what she was losing, and what
she might have in the future — torn between the two. " Why,
Sammy ? Why ? Poor old Sammy ! " she gasped, seeing the clinched
jaws, the muscles working spasmodically in his face.
** Incause "— he spoke almost fiercely — ** I saw it all by th'
light o' a match."
She was silent, knowing then that he knew. He took her by
the hand, dragged her through the crowd of tourists, passengers,
immigrants, that thronged the station, to where the other stood.
** Fred, lad ; ye'r honest, an' ye loves Marthy as a man should,
don't ye ? "
The other was amazed, dumb almost.
** I do ! " he answered, before he had time to think.
"All aboard— all 'board! "
** I trusts het to ye, lad, fur she loves ye, an' kin show it now,
incause I gives my consent, an' " — he coughed again harshly — " my
blessin'. Look arter her well, lad, as I hev' ; an' read this when
I'm gone ! " He gave him a sheet of paper, and sprang away.
Slowly the great wheels revolved to the spurting chug-chug
of the engine. White-jacketed porters closed the vestibules of the
Pullmans. Gradually, then faster and faster, the long cars moved
away ; the two gripping each other's hands convulsively, tears stream-
ing down her face. No sign of old Sam King. The two watched the
express fade away to a blur in the west. She turned on him then.
** Are you a man like him, Fred ? "
He looked into her eyes.
** He is a man," he whispered. '* I can only try to love ye as
he did ! "
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THE LIGHT OF A MATCH.
261
** You'll have to try hard ! " she answered, softly.
For an instant then a single ray of yellow sunlight forced its
way through the grey clouds, and hesitated weakly on the two; it
was pjone.
"Sammy" — she waved her hand to the westward, aJong' the
unsympathetic cold lines of steel — "ye didn't kiss me good-bye,"
and the tears rolled faster. ,
" No, he didn't," the man whispered; ** but Til watch over ye I j
I don't love the grain most ! ** I
He opened the paper, and his face became soft with a deep glow
of feeling. l
•' Read thet, dear!" \
She could distinguish the words but slowly for her tears. |
"ye an fred kin marry in tou weks 1*1 be out o* th wurld f
then ye'l be hapy i gues an ets ryght ye shuld incaus ye an
him hev bin squar in this thing i aint jelous i m hapy fur it
" lovinle *'
SAM." |.
For a moment both were silent, looking to the west.
*' He didn't love the grain most after all," Fred whispered,
sadly.
" I don't think he did," she answered, and turned away.
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THE YORK AND AINSTY AT ALDBOROUGH
SOME GREAT HUNTS
BY MAJOR ARTHUR HUGHES-ONSLOW
There has been a good deal of discussion during the last fewniontlis
in the sporting papers and magazines on foxes and fox-hunting. " Do
foxes run as well as they did formerly?" and *' Is hunting as fine
a sport as it once was ? " have been the much debated questions.
This has been a grand opportunity for the laudatores temporis acti, and
they have not missed it. They are a hardy race who have flourished
exceedingly from the days of Horace, and probably for many centuries
before the time of that witty poet and man of the world.
Only the other day I picked up a volume of the Sporting
Magazine over a hundred years old, in which one of them sang a
truly mournful jeremiad on the decadence of both sport and the
English thoroughbred horse. There is also the other school who hold
that there never was such a time as thq present, and it is not easy
to find the truth and hold the balance evenly between the two.
I have kept a hunting diary for twenty-two years, which now
contains the records of over a thousand dajs' sport, and it occurred
to me that it might be of interest to give an account of some of the
best runs I have seen.
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SOME GREAT HUNTS 263
A great many fox-hunters keep no diary ; and as it is a happy
trait in most men's characters to remember the good times that are
p>ast, and to forget the evil ones, I have no doubt that many people
honestly think the sport was better years ago, simply because they
remember the fine runs they enjoyed, and forget all about the dis-
appointing days they suffered. As far as my own experience goes
the sport is ev^ry bit as good now as ever it was, and I think the
records of last year, 1905 (I am writing these notes in January), will
compare favourably with those of any other year in the annals of
the hounds which I have the good fortune to follow.
Some countries have been much cut up by the increase of rail-
THB COTTESMORE
ways and the growth of towns, but others have been immensely
improved during the last forty years, owing to the large amount of
arable land which has been turned down into grass since the fall in
the price of wheat made ploughing unremunerative.
Lord Middleton's country in the East Riding of Yorkshire is a
fine, wild, sporting district, sparsely inhabited, and with few rail-
ways, consequently well adapted to long straight hunts; and I think
his dog hounds were the best I have ever seen in sticking to a fox.
Their grim determination and perseverance would not be denied,
and the way they broke up a fox after they had killed him was some-
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264 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
thing to remember.. I hunted a good deal with them about twelve
years ago, and came in for some very fine runs.
21 December 1889. — Hounds had just killed their fox after a
good forty minutes in a ring from Stittenham Wood, when a fox
jumped up in the open close to Foston. We got a good start with
him and pushed him at a rare pace through Bulmer Hag and into
Castle Howard Park, right through this huge park, across the valley
which lies to the north of it, over Connisthorpe Banks, down into the
valley of the Rye ; we got a view of him as he crossed the Malton
and Gilling Railway, near Amotherby Station, and killed him half
a mile further on. This was about the straightest-running fox
I have ever seen ; the point was some nine miles, and he hardly
deviated one hundred yards from a straight line during his whole
journey ; the pace was good throughout, and the time i hr. 15 min.
Seven years later, almost to a day, on 9 December 1896, I saw
an even finer hunt in the very same district. After a wet and stormy
night the weather improved at about 10 a.m. It was quite fine
when hounds were thrown into Foston Covert, and at the same instant
a hallo from the first whip proclaimed that the good fox was away.
There was a screaming scent, and hounds fairly flew for twenty
minutes over a lovely line of country till they were brought up by
the wall of Castle Howard Park. The fox had run along the top of it,
and it was some five or six minutes before Grant hit off his line.
Hounds went on again at a good hunting pace right through the
park, past Hildenly and Swinton Grange, almost to Amotherby
Station (our furthest point), then left-handed in a big ring through
part of Castle Howard Park almost to Bulmer village, where they
ran right up to him and killed him in the open. Point eight miles,
distance as hounds ran about sixteen miles, time i hr. 50 min.
The first twenty minutes was a brilliant gallop, and the rest of the
run a very fine hunt : with the exception of the time when the fox
ran along the park wall there was no check worth mentiojiing.
I have said what demons these hounds were at breaking up a
fox. Now little Grant had a habit, when he had killed his fox after
a good hunt, of standing with his foot on the dead fox while his
grand dog hounds bayed round him till you could have heard them
five miles off. On this occasion we had a rare chorus for about ten
minutes, and when Grant picked the fox up to throw it to them
they made a dash forward, his foot slipped, and down he went in
the middle of them. I really thought we should never see any-
thing more of him, except, perhaps, his cap and his spurs ; but he
managed to roll out of the scrimmage, and but for being very dirty
was none the worse, though it looked awkward for a second or two.
Another capital hunt took place on 5 February 1890. Found
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SOME GREAT HUNTS 265
in Brockfteld Covert, which is just four miles from York. The fox
made straight for the city, and ran right into the houses of Oswald -
kirk, a suburb of York, a most peculiar line for him to take, as there
is no covert in that direction. He skirted round the walls and
crossed the Low Moor just behind the cavalry barracks. Leaving
Heslington on his left, he ran the whole length of the Tilmire and got
into the Wheldrake Woods.
In spite of fresh foxes being afoot, hounds drove him through
these large coverts into the open again on the far side, and running
well for another mile or so killed him in the churchyard of Elvington
village, which is six miles from York. This was another very
THB YORK AND AINSTY HOUNDS
straight run, the point being eight miles. Hounds ran a great pace
for the first four miles over a stiff line of country with no gaps, and
-when they checked almost under the shadow of the minster it was
surprising how few people realised where they were.
The York and Ainsty joins Lord Middleton's country. Mr.
Lycett Gi^en, who is in the twentieth year of his mastership, has
shown his followers some rare good hunts.
20 December 1897 was a memorable day. Found in Cold-
stream Whin, and ran very hard to New Parks, then on through
Huby Bum and Hawk Hills, past Easingwold village, to Peep-o'-day
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266 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
fox-covert, where he got to ground in the main earth. Point eight
miles, time i^ hrs. Drew Stillington Whin and found another good
fox, who took us by Crayke village to Spillar Wood and on through
Dalby Bush and Wiganthorpe to the Hovingham Woods, where the
fox again found safety below ground — very hard luck on the hounds,
but as we were several miles in Lord Middleton's country the earths
were, of course, open. Point over seven miles. Hounds had run
well for about i hr. 20 min, over a rough and trying country
Another very good hunt took place on 15 January 1898, from
Sessay Wood by Thormanby, Carlton Husthwaite, and Coxwold to
Wass Bank, where we killed him on the edge of the Hambledon
grouse moors, a seven-mile point over a lovely line of country, about
twelve miles as hounds ran ; time, i hr. 10 min.
Many a memorable hunt have the York and Ainsty had with
these stout moorland foxes, who come down into the low country
about the new year seeking a mate. Unless it is a very good scent-
ing day, it is long odds on them against the hounds, for if once th^
get among the crags and rocks of the moors it is almost impossible
to catch them before they find some stronghold where they are
quite safe from hounds, terriers, or spades. More than once also
have I reached the top of these banks — they are so steep you
can only get up them here and there — to find the moors covered
with snow and ice when there had not been a trace of either in the
vale below.
The best fox whose acquaintance I have ever had the luck
to make lived in a little patch of wild gorse on the banks of the
River Maigue in co. Limejick. We found him first on the after-
noon of 22 January 1894, and to my dying day I shall never forget
the glorious gallop he led us for some nine miles over a perfect line
of country. The going was of the very best, and the pace tremendous.
Without a check, and with only a breather of two or three minutes
when hounds were pushing their way through the small gorse
covert of Lisdowan, he led us on till he found well-deserved safety
in the main earth of Garryfine Covert, which he reached some two
hundred yards in front of the leading hounds.
He was at home again on 19 February^ and again gave a great
run past Croom Gorse to Kilmacow Cross Roads, about seven miles,
at a capital pace ; then darkness put an end to the hunt. Once
more was he found, early the following season ; but he was not so
highly tried, scent was only fair, and after a good long hunt, in which
he was always having the best of it, he beat hounds again by the
simple expedient of running them out of scent. In vain was he
sought again ; he had changed his quarters ; perhaps he thought
there was luck in odd numbers.
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SOME GREAT HUNTS 267
The finest run I have ever seen took place on 26 T^ec^mher
1902. The Cottesmore Hounds met in Oakham. The first draw
was Oakham Pastures, two small coverts about a mile south west of
the town. Hounds were hardly in before the fox was away.
They got a good start, and at once settled down to run at
a great pace across the valley, leaving Brook village on the right,
and Martinsthorpe on the left, almost to the Manton Brook; this
they did not cross, but bore right-handed, and it looked for a
time as if Prior's Coppice was his point, but he left it about two
fields to his right, and crossing the valley between Leigh Lodge and
Cole's Lodge made straight for Launde Park Wood. It then seemed
THB YORK AND AINSTY HOUNDS CROSSING THE OUSB AT NABURN FBRRY
i
a certainty that he would enter this stronghold of foxes, but when
some quarter of a mile from it hounds swung sharp to the left, and R
racing over the Hog's Back passed the Quakers Spinneys, and cross-
ing the Leicester and Uppingham road, plunged into Wardley Wood,
another grand wood always full of foxes. Here one expected a rest
after forty minutes at top speed over a grand line of country, but
not for a moment did the pace slacken till, after leaving Upping-
ham to the left and the Stoke End Woods to the right, we reached
the valley of the Welland and a check occurred. For the next
ten minutes hounds could only travel slowly, but a hallo forward
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26fi THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
near Thbrpe-by-Water got us on better terms again, and they
ran on down the water meadows close to the river till they came to
Harringworth and crossed under the big Midland Railway viaduct.
He now left the valley and made up for Barroden Heath, where some
cold ploughs again brought hounds to their noses; but they stuck to
him, and getting on to grass again drove along well across Luffenham
Heath into the coverts which lie at the east end of it. This was a
very ticklish time, as there were fresh foxes afoot ; but all went well*
and after five minutes or so our dead-beat fox left the covert and
staggered on almost to Tixover Grange, where hounds running into
MR. BVAN HANBURY, MASTER OF THB COTTESMORE
view killed him in the road along which he had run for the last 300
yards. From Oakham Pastures to Tixover Grange is nine miles as
the crow flies, but as the run was roughly speaking three parts of a
circle, the distance travelled was between two and three times as
great. After very careful measurement on the map I cannot make
out that fox and hounds ran less than twenty-three miles. The time
was 2 J hrs. For the first forty minutes both pace and country were
the very best. Some of us, including the Master and the huntsman,
were lucky enough to get our second horses at Harringworth. By
making straight through Uppingham they had practically ridden
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SOME GREAT HUNTS 269
the diameter of the circle while we were doing the arc, and had saved
some six or eight miles. I can hardly believe that we ran the same
fox all through, for the pace and country we travelled in the first
forty minutes was enough to kill ninety-nine out of a hundred
foxes; it seems to me probable than our original fox ran on into
Launde Park Wood, and that it was a fresh one that took hounds
sharp to the left for Wardley and the remaining two-thirds of this
wonderful run.
In addition to a lot of other excellent sport, the Cottesmore
have brought off two first-class runs this season. On 5 December
they found a fox in Skeffington Wood, and pointing for Tilton
village they ran him as far as the osier beds, then turning left-
handed they ran to Knowsley; again bearing to the left the next
THE COTTBSMORB AT TILTON WOOD
p)oint was Keythorpe Wood, and holding straight on they crossed
the Leicester and Uppingham road at Finchley Bridge. Leaving
the big woodlands of Loddington and Launde well to the left they
crossed the Hog's Back and the valley beyond near Cole's Lodge,
and killed their fox handsomely in the open, on the high ground
about half-way between Prior's Coppice and Owston Wood. Unlike
most great hunts, the latter part of this run was much the fastest,
and hounds cannot have covered less than sixteen miles.
On Tuesday, 23 January, after a very frosty morning which
caused the meet at Loddington to be postponed till twelve o'clock,
hounds reached Prior's Coppice about 2 p.m. Two foxes were soon
away ; for a few minutes the chase lay in the direction of Braunston
MO. cxxviii. VOL. xxvL—March 1906 T
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270 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
village, but then bore left-handed by Haycock's Spinneys and over
the ridge into the valley at Cole's Lodge. Hounds ran well along
the brook to Leigh Lodge, where they were at fault, but a hallo
on the Hog's Back soon put them right, and from there to the finish
they never checked. Right well they ran towards Belton, then
left-handed past the Quakers almost to Wardley Wood, and on by
Ayston to Preston down into the valley and across the brook, over
the great Martinsthorpe Pasture, where we got a view of him as he
crossed the skyline ; then bearing to the right he recrossed the
ridge between Manton Gorse and the village, and almost reached
Wing. Something must have headed him here, for he turned short
back, and passing the station almost retraced his steps to the brook,
THB YORK AND AINSTY — A MEET
where he lay down, and at one moment hounds were all round
him. He was not done, however, and by a supreme effort reached
the gorse a few fields further on. Unfortunately for him there was
no fresh fox to come to his aid, and after knocking him about in
covert with a tremendous cry for a few nrtnutes, hounds forced him
into the open, and killed him close to the village about half a mile
from the covert. A most delightful hunt over a perfect riding
country ; time, about one and a half hours ; distance as hounds ran,
fourteen miles.
Like everything else, both foxhounds and fox-hunting have
probably changed a good deal in the last hundred years. From all
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SOME GREAT HUNTS 271
one can gather, and from the evidence of contemporary paintings,
the foxhound of the present day is both stronger and faster, and
hunts with more dash and drive, than his ancestor, and will therefore
kill his fox considerably quicker on a good scenting day ; but on the
other hand he has not so fine a scent and is not so good at line
hunting, so cannot stick to him as long on a bad scenting day.
These alterations in the foxhound are due to artificial selection and
breeding, and to the striving of most Masters to attain a type of
great beauty and of great speed and staying powers, all of which
the modern high-class foxhound most undoubtedly possesses.
These aims and objects have been greatly encouraged by the
Peterborough Hound Show, where make and shape is, of course,
THE COTTESMORB HOUNDS — A. THATCHER, HUNTSMAN ; AND J. BOORE, FIRST WHIP
everything, and no notice can be taken of hunting qualities. I had
a very interesting conversation a few months ago with a friend who
now hunts the wild boar in the forests of Central France with a pack
of English foxhounds.
He told me that the French hound was very like the English
hound of a hundred or more years ago, that he had a splendid
nose and was a wonderful line hunter, but that the superior size,
courage, and drive of the modern English hound made him an
infinitely better animal for the very rough work of boar-hunting.
The fox being a wild animal and only affected by the laws of
nature, is probably no better and no worse than he was a hundred or
a thousand years ago; he is, however, subject to circumstances,
T 2
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272 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
and where he has a nice comfortable billet with plenty to eat and
is seldom disturbed, he is apt to put on a good deal too much
weight, and to be in no condition to afford a fine run. The foxes
of the Wardley, Stoke End, and Allexton district are notoriously
difficult to kill ; there are plenty of them, and they are hunted
almost every Saturday by either the Cotte
Hounds, so they are as fit as Grand Natio
terrible amount of catching.
Whether the sport is now as good as, or
it is impossible to prove and futile to argue
who love it, do our best to help it and keep it
standard.
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MAHARAJAH OF PUDUKOTAH S 20 H.P. GARDNBR-SERPOLLBT
THIS AMAZING INDIA
BY D. S. SKELTON, R.A.M.C.
Once upon a time the Motor Union of Western India promoted a
Reliability Trial for touring cars from Delhi to Bombay. This event
came off between 26th December, 1904, and 2nd January, 1905.
Strangely enough (at first sight) it attracted far more than local
interest, inasmuch as entries were forthcoming not only from all
parts of India, from the Punjab, from the Calcutta side, from
Southern India and Ceylon, but also from Europe. Apart alto-
gether from the value of the prizes, which was by no means incon-
siderable, it appears that Western manufacturers were at last in some
degree alive to the possibilities of the Indian trade. In fact, out
of thirty-four entries no fewer than twelve came from Europe.
Now, whatever else the results of these motor trials showed, apart
from all the squabbling and bickering that followed the award, they
taught the fact, and brought it home to every motor man who
participated, that here was a new land for himself and his machine,
in which to besport themselves. It taught us, that all other func-
tions of a motor-life being fulfilled, there remained one purpose, one
object yet in view — " the exploration of this amazing " India.
My good fortune led me to enter my Wolseley, brought me to
Delhi for the start, and to Bombay for the finish. No matter what
troubles and worry and bother I met with on that thousand miles of
road, I shall never forget and never regret any of my experiences.
Last year, in this magazine, I was permitted to detail a motor tour
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274 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
in Ceylon, and in the summary to that article I recommended the
jaded European motorist to bring himself and his car and explore
some of the relatively little known parts of that " Pearl of the
East." Now our little island is almost crowded with motors of
all sizes, one or two owners of which have confessed to me that
they were first attracted to this beauty-spot by the photographs that
accompanied my plea for their presence. Hence, if in the course
of the few following notes on the Indian road I can impress on
European owners the immediate desirability of transferring them-
selves, bag, baggage, and car, to the '* Shiny," I shall die my motor
death in peace, feeling that I have done my duty to my fellow
automobilists. I would urge them to come over to " that new land
which is the old," instead of fooling away their time down on the
Riviera or other places where folk congregate in wintry weather.
« « ♦ « *
Smoke the pipe of peace or the weed of satisfaction, all you
unfortunates in England. Imagine for a while that there is the
usual thick fog outside, in the motor house the water in your engine
is freezing, and to-morrow you will find your cylinder heads cracked.
Or think of yourself driving over the usual wretched, greasy road,
with the rain coming down in torrents, as it only can in England.
Imagine yourself suddenly pulled up, when travelling at your usual
speed of say nineteen and a half miles an hour, by an irate officer of
the law, and see yourself a few days later mulcted in heavy fines,
your licence endorsed for the last time, and your motor career ended
for a long period. Then, as the master changed the scene when
he took his audience such a short distance as to France, what
time King Henry V. invaded that fair land —
. . . with imagined wing our swift scene flies,
In motion of no less cderity
Than that of thought. . . .
Play with your fancies : and in them behold
yourself at Delhi on Christmas Day.
You will get up with the sun — that is to say, at about seven
o'clock — and you will have to help to prepare the car ; you may even
have to polish the brasswork, for unless you are early in this open
garage you will find all the coolies already engaged elsewhere on the
score or more of motors that have arrived for the trials. There is
hoar frost on the ground and it is mighty cold, but the sky is as
blue as the Mediterranean, and the air has all that crispness that is
so characteristic of Northern India in the cold weather ; so you must
stamp about and swing your arms or work hard if you are going to
keep warm. By-and-by you can have breakfast before a blazing
wood fire, and after that I will take you out in a small car through
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THIS AMAZING INDIA 275
the bazaar to seethe sights. First we will spin along the " Ridge,"
and get a bird's-eye view of all the city with its minarets and towers
glistening in the sunshine. Note especially the golden cross on the
little English church. Famous it is, you remember, because the
mutineers never got the range of it, try as they would. Afar off you
see the Jutnma River, with its broad bed spanned by a thread, which
you shall know later is the bridge. Look the other side, that is
where the Durbar Camp was pitched, and away to the right is the
Viceroy's house ; but that was a poor show compared with the Motor
Durbar of 1904-5. Now, along to the right, past the Tower and the
Club, we will go into the town, escaping the big red Fiat car by a
CASHMBRB GATE, DELHI
i
k
I.
paint's thickness as she comes humming under the Cashmere Gate.
Next I will take you into the bazaars, where the big cars cannot go,
along the crowded Chandi Chowk, and up to the Jumma Musjik;
but after exploring the latter you will agree with me there are finer ^f
mosques in the world. You will, perhaps, remember the little mosque
at Sidi Okba, the one Domini loved so well far away out in the
"Garden of Allah." How much more impressive was that age- \ ^
stricken little House of God ! Whilst for sheer size there is the big • j
mosque at Damascus, with the three towers, all ready for the descent
of the Prophet and his party. No, we will leave the Jumma Musjik :
it is too white and glaring ; we will drop down to the Fort. This of
course is impressive, if only on account of its frowning walls ; but,
i
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276 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
all the same, one feels rather sorry for the poor devils who have to
live in it in the hot weather, for Delhi then is nearer the other place
than to Paradise.
But all this time I am forgetting the road, which is what we
came out for to see. So this Christmas afternoon we will accept an
invitation and ride in Mr. S. F. Edge's big Napier, leaving behind
our snorting little Bazaar car ready for its run to-morrow, for as you
say —
Fetid and foul are the city streets,
O, let me once more feel
The ample wind in my shoulder parts.
Here, then, is an opportunity, for the genial driver of this great green
monster tells me he wants to give his machine a final run, just to
ease her valves and loosen her sticky parts. Goggles, all the warm
clothes you have got, rugs, and a stop-watch will be all we shall
want. In this land, at this time, there will be no other road users
and no other road interests, as there are no suburban villas round
this town ; and not only that, but the word has gone forth that for a
while the " fire-car " rules the road, so speed and dust will incon-
venience no one but ourselves. Out over the Jumma Bridge and
on to the Agra road, there in front of you lie some 140 miles of dead
straight and level road. Two cars can pass each other easily, and
perhaps at a pinch even three, and in addition at the side is a further
soft bit of road, where the tender-footed camel treks along. On
either side the road is bordered with trees, tamarind and acacia,
and beyond them the cotton fields. Those who have tramped along
those roads with marching troops will tell of the monotony of the
scene where field and sky meet and never an object breaks in on the
evenness of the view. A brazen sky, too, it seems under those con-
ditions ; but now we see that country from the point of view of fifty
miles done in the hour, instead of about three, and the outlook is not
the same. Then, from the snugness of your car you can say to those
who hate the eternity of the Indian road —
Let the valley lanes seem good to those
Who love a guarded way ;
The place of my soul is the wind-scoured down,
Where the red sun burns all day.
And O, the road, the gallant road,
Let me follow and touch my friend —
The great green snake of turf that glides
With never a coil nor bend.
And then this Northern Indian air — how it whips the blood, and
puckers the skin, and makes the whole body tingle with exhilaration!
To one who lives at a constant day-and-night temperature of about
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THIS AMAZING INDIA 277
eighty this means life, fresh life ; for, as Byron says, though he little
knew at the time,
And there is nothing gives a man such spirit,
Leavening his blood as cayenne does a curry,
As going at full speed.
" Are you ready to take the mile ? " shouts the driver ; *' you
shall see 'what she can do," and so he lets her out in a way not
permitted, perhaps, since she won her owner the cup in the Paris-
Vienna Gordon Bennett Race. Oh, it does not matter what the stop-
watch showed, it was a minute and a bit for every mile. *' Haven't
had the clutch in properly yet," shouted the driver as he slowed up
JUMMA MUSJIK MOSQUB, DELHI
to a camel-cart half a mile away, " too much traffic." Still, sixty
miles an hour or thereabouts means speed. Henley knew a little
about speed, but he ought to have experienced it on an Indian road,
then we could have understood his lines in " The Song of Speed " : —
Speed and the range of God's skies,
Distances, changes, surprises ;
Speed, and the hug of God's winds,
And the play of God's airs ;
Beautiful, whiipsical, wonderful,
Clear, fierce, and clean.
With a thrust at the throat,
And a rush at the nostrils.
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278 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
And then home again, with a last rush through the Indian twi-
light to get in before dark, a real Christmas dinner, a game of
Bridge over the Yule log blazing high up the big stone chimney,
and so to bed.
Boxing Day saw some thirty odd cars start out on the road
that we travelled over yesterday. In three or four hours you arrive
in Agra, 140 miles away ; that is to say if you are lucky enough to
be in the big Napier. If you come with me in '* Ambrosine ''
you will take longer, but you will get there all the same. In
either case you will go and see the Taj, more especially as for
COUNT Dl GROPBLLO'S l6 H.P. FIAT, WINNER RANIPUR TROPHY
that particular night a full moon had been ordered by the ever-
thoughtful secretary. After pondering awhile in the dear old garden
over this — the most marvellous monument to a woman that the
world has ever seen — you can come back and tell me that it is very,
very beautiful ; more beautiful than the alabaster models of it they
sell for a few annas, and I shall believe you. But before you turn in
that night, I would have you note that this day you have motored
over a road as splendid as any Route Nationale you have ever seen.
At distances of about every three hundred yards stood a policeman,
armed with his grandfather's sword or his great-uncle's ancient
musket. Never a pi-dog nor any obstacle did you meet on that
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THIS AMAZING INDIA 279
stretch of road. It was a mighty bunderbastj and in no other
country in the world would such a bunderbast be possible.
After Agra, the southern road leads to Gwaiior — that strong-
hold set on a hill — isolated, overawing, frowning on the country
of the plain. Here regal hospitality will be shown you by the
Maharajah Scindia, and you will be a royal guest. But what of the
road ? Its character has changed since we left Agra. It is red
sandstone now, but its surface is still like a billiard table ; it is as
straight as ever, and it leads due south. On either side the country
is seared and serrated ; mostly it is a desert land, and no one would
desire to be lost in it, for then there could not even be a mirage to
THE TAJ, AGRA
cheer the forlorn one and urge him on to new exertions. But the
road goes relentlessly through it all, over hills and down to broad
rivers that are crossed by special ferries or bridges of boats. For
this time only the bunderbast has had them covered axle deep in
rushes, and going across one of these strange bridges, with the boats
swaying about in the stream under the unaccustomed strain, makes
one feel sure that some connection will part, and that self and car
will end up in the river.
And so you will go over yet another 700 miles of this road that
keeps the sun always in your face. In the evening-time you shall think
over it, and at the end you will have difficulty in recalling the names
of the places you have passed through. After Gwaiior it was Goona,
in the shikar country, and on this stretch it was that the panther
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28o THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
walked across the road right in front of us ; then Maksi, which is
so insignificant a place as to be hardly worth marking on the map-
yet all that day we kept on passing ruined temples and ancient forts,
but there was neither time nor opportunity to stop. You only make
a mental vow to return one day with camera and sketch-book.
Up to now we had always managed to fetch up at night at some
station on the line, and thither would proceed our specia.1 train, in
which we ate and slept. Here again everything had been thought
out, and in the most desert places we were surrounded with luxuries,
even down to such a thing as a Pianola ! But one night we came to
a place that was fifty miles from the railway, and here arrangements
had been made for us to camp. Of course for a good many of the
English competitors it was an experience to be under canvas. But
now they must be envious of Indian camp life. The site selected
was excellent, perched high up on the river banks, and the Nerbudda
river bed was quite half a mile broad. It reminded me of the
jungle home of Diana Harrington, and I almost looked for her
tame panther to come and rub its nose up against my leg. After
that on through Dhulia and down one lot of Ghauts, and over
another lot to Igatpuri, a pretty little hill station 2,000 feet up;
then down more Ghauts to the Kalyan ferry, two cars crossing it at
a time. It took an hour altogether to get over. Now there are
only forty miles in front of you to Bombay, and then behind you lie
883 miles of an Indian road. From Comorin to the Himalayas, if
you span it on the schoolroom map, is about 1,400 miles; so now
you may say that you have come well over half-across India, and
what is more you have seen it, and seen it intimately. Did you
know your amazing England before the advent of the motor-car
taught you the exploration of it ? Shall you not know your India as
well?
What impressions crowd into the mental picture as you go over
this wonderful journey again ! At first it does not seem possible to
sort or sift them in any orderly manner. There exists but a mass
of confused impressions, a mental chaos, that only the wearing of
time will regulate and put in place. Surge up in the memory
impressions of a vast country — mile after mile of it — visions of
mountain scenery, wild, weird, rugged, stage-like in the sharpness
of its definition against the Indian sky. Follow thoughts of folk
one passed at speed, picturesque, untamed, in the outer reaches of
civilisation ; varied again by memories of troops on the march, of
guns rolling along, of columns of wagons following ; thoughts of a
mad rush over the cantonment road of a big military station with the
cheering soldiers all under the impression that it was a speed race;
these jostle with recollections of the evening chaff over the humours
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THIS AMAZING INDIA 281
of the day's run. How, call him Jones, having lost his topee, wore a
white turban, and was presented everywhere as the Rajah of Bhong,
in answer to the many queries as to who the white Maharajah
Sahib was. What potentate is better known now from Indore to
Bombay than the genial and sedate owner of the New Orleans car,
who all unseeking had this honour thrust upon him ? Then one
day the ** traction-engine," as we called the slow but sure Beaufort,
was discovered going downhill on the second speed, her owner
having got bitten with a sudden mania for pace. How just as we
would be turning in, the Alldays, and the ** Allnight," as we called
If. DB SORBL's 24 H.P. DB DIBTRICH, WINNER OF THB GABKWAR's
CUP FOR THB MOST RBLIABLB CAR
the little Lenoir, would come romping in. Yes, on that journey
pleasures were frequent, pain was rare. Laugh, and we all laughed;
weep or break down, and you wept alone, but someone came back to
fetch the unfortunate one.
Now what of the future of the motor in India ? In my opinion
it has a great future, the big car and the small one. The rich man
with his big car has all India waiting for him. In a couple of
months he can tour thousands of miles over the country. He can
land at Bombay ; from there to Calcutta he will find a trunk road
1,200 miles long ; or if he does not like that, he can first go south to
Bangalore and then rejoin the trunk road. From Calcutta he can
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282 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
go north and west up to Peshawar by that road of roads, the
*' Grand Trunk." Fifteen hundred miles or more of this is there
along the valley of the Ganges, taking in Benares, Cawnpore,
Lucknow, and other historic places. Then back to Bombay by the
route that I have tried to tell about. He can make 5,000 miles out of
a tour of this description. Steevens saw India in a month and wrote
a readable book about it : the motor man could do the same if he
wanted to, only he could see a great deal more, and could fill a
library full of his impressions. All you want to carry in India is
your food and your bedding. There are dak bungalows at intervals
of fifteen or twenty miles along all the trunk roads, and with a little
warning they can provide the traveller with the wherewithal to keep
body and soul together in the way of food. Anything out of the
way must be carried. The petrol difficulty is overcome by ha\ang
an extra big tank with exhaust pressure feed. For instance, I under-
stand that the Fiat cars >vill carry fuel enough for a 500-mile run.
There are d6p6ts now all over India where petrol can be got.
Petrol costs in Bombay Rs. 1.8 (about 2s.), and in Calcutta, where
the oil comes from Burmah, it is only about is. a gallon. But it is
the small and medium-sized cars that have a great future in India.
For the road officer, for the district officer, for sport, or work, or
play, they will prove most valuable. There are many kinds of car-
burettors in these days that use kerosene, and as kerosene can be got
in every little village almost, even a man in the most out-of-the-way
place need not fear the petrol difficulty and the attendant expense.
The question of tyres to this class of car is in course of solution, and
there are now many makes of solids that are almost as good and
comfortable to use as the best pneumatics. If solid tyres are going
to be fitted to a car for Indian use, it is well to insist that the springs
are made stronger than is the case in most small cars that I have seen
out there. A great deal of stress was laid on tyre troubles in the
Delhi-Bombay Trials. It is true that punctures were fairly common,
but then so they are everywhere. Personally I had only two nails
in my tyres the whole way, and I thought myself very unfortunate.
My recollections of English motoring are not so rosy when I come
to think of tyre troubles. I used to hold myself very lucky if I
ever went a hundred miles without having to put in at least one new
inner tube.
Let me take this opportunity of reminding English manufac-
turers that India wants good stuff, and that India will have none
but the best. England has lost ground already. In Bombay and
Calcutta one rarely meets an English car.^ My Wolseley was looked
1 The hint is given in aU kindness, and shonld not be neglected.
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THIS AMAZING INDIA 283
upon rather as a curiosity, whereas I counted outside a big shop one
day no fewer than eight De Dion cars, whilst Darracqs, Panhards,
Clements, Oldsmobiles, and De Dietrichs were all over the place-
A representative of a big French firm told me that he already looked
upon India as a future market for their surplus stock, whilst I
believe that only a few English firms know or care that India has
such a thing as a road.
Lastly, let me assure you motor men whose licences have gone,
and whose cylinders have been cracked by the frost, that once you
have been there, once you have tested the " open road " of India in.
X2 a.r, UAKKACU, WinnSK of THB LYONS cup, non-stop DELHI TO BOMBAY
the cold weather, you will hear the East a-calling you again. Only
get settled down on the long straight road that leads from Here to
There, you will hear in the sound of your engine the singing of those
fine lines of Stewart Bowles in the " Song of the Wheel " : —
Fire in the heart of me, moving and chattering,
Youth in each part of me, slender and strong ;
Death at the foot of me, rending and shattering,
Light and tremendous I bear you along;
Up to the brow where the levels go wearily,
Down to the vale where the gravels give speed ;
Holding it, moulding it, scolding it cheerily,
Slave to your purpose and sign of your need.
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STRANGE STORIES OF SPORT
XIII.— HIGH STAKES
BY ALMA SCRIVEN
Beneath a cloudless sky, intensely blue, Peter Gordon was leading
the way across the upper end of the Eigisch Glacier which divides
the peaks of the Eigischhorn and the Schneeberg. Peter was a
strong, cheery-faced boy of two or three and twenty, with honest
grey eyes, and pluck and determination written in every feature.
With his porter, Kauffmann, he had just accomplished the transit
of the Eigischhorn, ascending by the precipitous rocky southern
slope, and they were now making the descent by the glacier and the
Wildig Ar^te.
The glacier in this region, far above the line of perpetual snow,
presented many dangers. The vast mass of ice was split up into
numberless seracs, many of them covered with treacherous snow
roofs, where a single careless step might at any moment precipitate
the climber into the depths beneath. Some of the seracs were of
such dimensions as to necessitate the skirting of them, while others
could be traversed by means of narrow snow bridges. In the latter
case Peter would venture first on hands and knees, the better to
divide the weight, while Kauflfmann, standing firmly on solid ice,
held the rope tightly between them, prepared for Peter's sudden
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HIGH STAKES 285
disappearance beneath his perilous path ; then Peter would perform
the same office for Kauffmann.
It was a risky, perhaps a foolhardy, experiment to travel on a
glacier of this character accompanied only by a porter; a slip or a
false step on the part of either threw the whole weight on the
other. But Peter's adventurous spirit rejoiced in danger; the
glorious views, the wonderful air, the almost unbroken solitude of
these lofty regions, touched his spirit in a way he could not have
described, while his narrow purse forbade him the enjoyment of his
favourite pursuit in a safer or more luxurious manner. Kauffmann,
too, had all tbe rashness of youth ; but though he was ready to face
anything, his nerve had been known to fail at a critical moment.
Suddenly Kauffmann pointed to the cleft in the mountains
towards the east, and uttered the monosyllable, " Schnee! '*
Peter, who was cutting a step in the ice, looked up. His small
knowledge of German was unnecessary in helping him to under-
stand Kauffmann's exclamation, as he saw the heavy clouds which
were rapidly moving towards them. In their present position a
snowstorm would be fraught with grave danger, for they were still a
good four hours from the Schneeberg hut. In ten minutes they
were enveloped in a blinding snowstorm.
The fresh loose snow on the frozen surface was an additional
source of danger to every step, and moreover the blinding storm
deprived them of all sense of direction. For some time they plodded
wearily on, till at length Peter halted. They were standing on the
brink of a chasm, on the further side of which protruded an over-
hanging cornice of snow.
" Do you think this crevasse has a bottom, eh, Kauffmann ? "
asked Peter.
Kauffmann's English was on a par with Peter's German, but
his eyes brightened with assent as they followed the direction of
Peter's finger, pointing down the serac.
** It's our only chance," thought Peter; and they both proceeded
to untie the ropes from their waists. Peter fastened one end to his ice
axe and lowered it over the edge and down the almost perpendicular
wall of ice to plumb the depth. At about forty feet it touched
bottom. They then drew it up, and firmly fixing their axes in a
crevice, securely knotted the rope round them. Peter made the
descent first. With his face to the wall of ice he swarmed down
the rope hand under hand, and at length found solid ground beneath
him. At this depth the lower side of the crevasse sloped towards
the other almost horizontally, and allowed standing room about four
feet in width. Just a glimpse of the scurrying storm was visible
above.
NO. cxxviii. VOL. Txif. — March 1906 V
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286 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
" By Jove, we're in luck/' thought Peter, and shouted to
KaufFmann to follow him, which he did immediately.
It was late in the season ; the storm was not unlikely to last
for two or three days, and, in addition to the danger of frost-bite
and the difficulty of keeping awake, their provisions would not last
long.
Enveloping themselves in such wraps as they had, they seated
themselves on their knapsacks.
'* Now, old fellow," said Peter, "we must not go to sleep;
nicht schlafen, you know."
Kauffmann's teeth were chattering ; Peter looked at him curi-
ously, and it struck him that it was something besides the cold that
was blanching his face.
After about half an hour they heard something that sounded
like a shout from above.
"There's somebody else lost," said Peter; "up you go, Kauff-
mann, and see what it is."
Kauffmann obediently swarmed up the rope, and when he
reached the mouth of the crevasse found three men : an English
tourist whom Peter had seen at the hotel below, Ringwood by
name; Bra want, one of the guides of the Eigisch Valley; and a
porter, Brawant's son.
In a few minutes Peter was joined by them all.
"Very glad to see you," said Peter, cheerily; " more chance
of our being able to keep ourselves warm."
"Goot idea," said Brawant approvingly to Peter. "I thought
also of crevasse — and then — I see the rope."
Peter and the half-frozen Englishman looked at each other.
Ringwood was a tall, strong, clean-shaven man of four or five and
thirty, with a pleasant if somewhat too keen expression in his
eyes.
" Rather a queer experience this," remarked Peter.
" Well, it's a new one to me," replied the new-comer.
" Have you done much climbing ? " asked Peter.
" First time," he answered.
Peter looked at him in surprise. "And you came over the
Wildig Arete ? "
Ringwood laughed. " I've kept a cool head in worse places
than that," he answered, carelessly. " Now, I expect you know
more about mountains than I do; how long do you think we can
stand this ? "
Peter shook his head. " I can't say at all," he replied. " Ii's
better not to think about it. My fellow is rather a rotter, unluckily;
I'm afraid he may give in."
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HIGH STAKES 287
** Well, I'll answer for mine," remarked the other, *' though I
met them to-day for the first time."
** Oh, the Brawants are splendid chaps ! " said Peter.
Ringwood produced a flask out of his pocket.
" Have some ? " he said, offering it to Peter.
Peter shook his head.
" I've got my own," he said, '* but I'm saving it up."
Ringwood laughed and took a pull.
***Sufiicient unto the day,'" he remarked, and replaced it in
his pocket.
There was a short silence. The three Germans were talking
together in low voices in their own language, while Peter drummed
his feet on the ice to keep the numbness out of them. Night was
approaching, and with it the dreaded snow-sleepiness was beginning
to dull their senses. As they sat, their eyes wide open and unnatu-
rally bright, Kauflfmann was the first to succumb to the fatal
influence. His head fell suddenly forward ; Peter and Brawant
each seized him by a shoulder and shook him into wakefulness.
Ringwood turned to Peter.
" I'm feeling rather like that myself, aren't you ? " he said.
** It wouldn't be a bad idea to have a game of cards, if we had a
light, would it ? "
Peter laughed. "It would be a very good one," he replied;
** but where are the cards ? I've got a light."
Ringwood, without a word, produced a pack from his pocket.
"That's ripping," said Peter. "I've got a lantern and a
couple of candles."
" Do you know ^cart6 ? " asked Ringwood.
" I know something about it," said Peter, putting one of the
candles into the lantern and lighting it as he spoke.
Ringwood, with practised hand, threw the low cards out of the
pack, while Peter balanced the lantern between his knee and the
side of the crevasse.
"What about stakes ?" asked Ringwood.
" Oh, anything you like," replied Peter, carelessly. " Shall we
play sixpenny points ? "
Ringwood gave him a lightning glance.
" Oh, all right," he said, in a tone of indifference.
They began to play. At the end of the first deal, Ringwood
csLSt a discontented glance at the lantern.
" I can't see anything by this infernal flicker," he said. " Can't
we do better than this ? "
" Brawant has another lantern," responded Peter. " Eh,
Brawant ? "
U a
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Brawant, who had drawn close, and was watching the game
with interest, nodded and lighted a second lantern.
Peter won the first two games, and at the end of the second
Ringwood yawned palpably.
*' Don't go to sleep, man," said Peter, who was beginning to
feel very wide awake.
" I don't think these stakes will keep me awake long," replied
Ringwood, with a smile.
" What do you want to play ? " asked Peter.
** I don't mind in the least," replied Ringwood, cheerfully;
'*but I should think we might raise the stakes to half-a-crown.
You see, I generally play for fivers even when I haven't got to keep
myself awake."
Peter's face lengthened.
** I'm afraid I can't do anything like that," he said ; ** but we'll
play for half-crowns, by all means."
Peter won the two following games, and again Ringwood
yawned. The next suggestion that the stakes should be raised came
from Peter, and Ringwood began to play with more interest.
Young Brawant and Kauffmann were now also watching the
play. The elder Brawant, who had grasped the principles of the
game at once, explained them to the other onlookers in a few low,
guttural words. Again Peter won.
** You have the devil's own luck," remarked Ringwood, as he
shuffled the cards.
Peter made no answer; he was in the first stages of the
gambler's fever, and he picked up the cards with hands trembling
with an excitement altogether new to him. By the end of the
next game he had won 3^50; and then the luck turned. His ex-
citement increased as his winnings disappeared. Again and yet
again the stakes were raised, each time the suggestion coming from
him. Brawant suddenly laid his hand on Peter's arm.
*' He play too goot for you," he said, slowly.
Ringwood's face flushed a little.
'* We'll stop if you like," he said, watching Peter as he spoke.
Peter turned his excited eyes on Brawant.
*' Nonsense, man," he said, "I shall win it back; it's all a
question of cards."
Brawant said no more, and the game went on in tense silence.
It was a strange scene — the five men buried in the depths of the ice,
all kept from the sleep that must have been death by the excite-
ment of the man who was losing all, and more than all, he possessed.
The first rays of the grey autumn dawn found them still playing.
Suddenly there was a shout from Brawant. Peter was dealing
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HIGH STAKES 289
with shaking hands and took no notice, but the others looked up
hastily. Through the crack that intervened between the lower side
of the crevasse and the cornice of snow, a glimpse of blue sky was
to be seen. Ringwood rose stiffly to his feet, looking at his scorfe as
he did so.
** You owe me £"2,250," he said. " I'll give you your revenge
another time if you like.*'
Peter gazed at him with scared eyes; the fever was already
gone, leaving him with a sudden strange sickness at heart.
£2,250 ! It meant ruin ; nay, it meant more than ruin, for he
could never pay such a sum ; it meant disgrace ! With a great
effort he pulled himself together, scrawled I O U on the paper
which recorded his losses, signed his name, and handed it to Ring-
wood, who pocketed it in silence. Then, one by one, they scram-
bled slowly and painfully out of the crevasse.
*****
The storm had passed ; the rays of the sun, not yet visible
above the mountains, had just reached the highest peak of the
Schneeberg range, and were bathing it in crimson splendour. Save
for that one spot of burning colour the whole world looked utterly
desolate. Brawant turned to Peter, who was staring before him
-with unseeing eyes.
'* It would be safer," Brawant said, ** one rope for all to use."
Peter started, and nodded assent. As soon as the rope was tied
round them — an operation which in their benumbed state took some
time to perform — they moved slowly and stiffly towards the edge of
the glacier. Every motion caused them intense pain as the blood
began to course freely in their veins, but Peter welcomed the physical
discomfort as a relief to the mental agony which tortured him.
Nearly a foot of fresh snow had fallen. Brawant, who was leading
the way, sounded the ground with his ice-axe before every step, and
the party, plunging nearly up to their knees, progressed very slowly.
When they reached the edge of the glacier the sun was already high
in the heavens, and they rested a minute or two to put on their
smoked glasses before continuing their route. A steep snow slope
had next to be crossed before they reached the Wildig Ar^te.
Brawant examined the state of the ground anxiously. Only
about six inches of the new soft snow rested on this slope.
" We shall have to cut steps in the lower hard surface," re-
marked Peter. " There is not enough fresh snpwto provide foothold.
I think I'll go in front here, Brawant."
Brawant glanced doubtfully at him ; but Peter had apparently
recovered himself; his mouth looked firm, and his voice was
steady.
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290 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
" I must be doing something,'* he muttered. " You don't
object, do you ? " he asked Ringwood.
Ringwood shrugged his shoulders. " You know your work, I
suppose," he said.
" Oh, he knows," Brawant said, and the change was made.
Peter was certainly steady enough, and cut the deep, safe steps
with a sure hand. Ringwood watched him with a feeling of vague
surprise. The excitable bey, who had so completely lost his head
in the past night, was not to be recognised in the firm, active figure
before him, whose every movement showed courage and self-
possession. Ringwood, though the word " fear " had no meaning to
him, was gifted with a vivid imagination, and pictured the effect of
a single false step : the first slip, the slide at lightning s]>eed down
the smooth slope, and finally the crash from precipice to precipice
beneath.
At length the snow slope was passed and they reached the
Wildig Ar6te. This arete was a razor-like ridge of rock ; on the
western side, a longr, steep slope of solid ice ran down to meet the
precipices of the Schneeberg, while on the eastern side there was a
sheer drop of several thousand feet on to a glacier. The ridge was
level — given a steady head, there was no particular risk in crossing
it under ordinary circumstances, but now as they emerged from the
shelter of the mountain they encountered a terrific hurricane raging
from the east at right angles to the ridge.
'* Are we going to cross it in this ? " Ringwood asked.
" It's all right," Peter explained. " We shall have to lean
against the wind and we shall be as safe as on a calm day."
Peter had resolutely put from his mind all recollection of the
night's experience — it was in the past, and it lay like a dark shadow
over the future ; but the present was his to enjoy with all the young,
healthy vitality that found an additional zest in every danger. They
again changed their order on the rope to that in which they had
crossed the glacier. Brawant led the way, followed by Ringwood ;
then came Kauffmann, Peter, young Brawant bringing up the rear.
The wind was so strong that only by leaning over the abyss at an
angle of some forty-five degrees could they keep their balance.
The knife-like ridge was almost crossed — indeed, Brawant's
hand was already on the solid rock of the Schneeberg slope — when
suddenly, without any warning, the wind dropped. Peter and the
three Germans were at once instinctively erect. Not so Ringwood !
Failing to adjust himself to the new conditions, he fell headlong
over the precipice. Kauffmann, instead of holding tight the short
coil of the rope which he was carrying in his hand, let it go;
Brawant, though in an absolutely insecure position, managed to
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HIGH STAKES 291
sustain the sudden weight of Ringwood, and literally before the
jerk of the rope, which would undoubtedly have been fatal to the
whole party, came on Kauffmann, Peter flung himself over the other
side of the ridge, trusting entirely to the strength of the hemp.
Kauffmann was thrown violently to his face, and young Brawant
was dragged over the edge by Peter ; but they both had their axes
in a moment into the surface of the icy slope, and regained the
ridge without assistance, while the elder Brawant drew Ringwood
back into safety.
Ringwood's face was rather white, but in a moment or two his
colour returned. He walked steadily forward to the rocks and then
spoke to Brawant with his usual easy laugh.
" By Jove, that was a close shave ! How was it that we didn't
all go over ? "
Brawant, with a keen glance at Ringwood, pointed to Peter.
" He threw himself over the other side," he said. " He saved
your life — he saved us all."
Ringwood's cheeks flushed, and he looked at Peter's white set
face.
Peter took no notice of him ; the danger over, shame and
despair were once more laying their grip on him. As his eye roved
over the landscape of dazzling whiteness, he strove in vain to see
some escape from the darkness that held his spirit. It seemed to
him that there was but one way of eluding it. For a moment he
closed his eyes to shut out the beauty of the world he loved, and
something like a groan broke from his lips.
The rest of the way presented little difficulty ; the party de-
scended in almost complete silence ; in a couple of hours* time they
gained the Schneeberg hut, where they unroped, and by three o'clock
in the afternoon were nearing Eigischwald.
Ringwood suddenly addressed Peter :
'* Look here, perhaps you have some difficulty in paying that
money ? You saved my life and *' As he spoke he drew the I O U
from his pockef'and handed it to Peter.
Peter did not take it ; he started and laughed harshly.
** What diff^erence do you think that makes?" he said. ** Do
you think I am going to live without paying my debts of honour ? '*
The words were boyish, but the glint in Peter's eyes was not.
** Don't be a fool ! ** said Ringwood, with a half-contemptuous
smile on his lips.
Peter made no reply, but walked on in silence. There was a
shadow on Ringwood's face.
" Curse the young fool ! " he muttered. '* What is he going to
do ? Sell up all his people, or shoot himself? ''
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292 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Peter gave him no further opportunity of speaking to him, but
as soon as he reached the hotel went straight up to his room. He
locked the door, and flinging himself on a chair, buried his haggard
face in his hands. ;f 2,250 ! He tried to think — to find some way
out of the net that bound him ; but there was none ! He rose slowly,
unlocked his dressing case, and drew out a small revolver.
Still he paused. His thoughts turned to his mother ; he must
write to her ; she should know that in spite of his miserable weak-
ness he had nevertheless in his last adventure played a man's part.
It might comfort her a little ; and he sat down and wrote her a
long letter. There was nothing more to do. He closed the letter,
and quietly raised the revolver.
At that moment there was a knock at the door.
" Who's there? " he cried, impatiently.
**A letter for M'sieur."
Peter crossed the room, took the letter, and relocked the door.
He tore open the envelope, drew out the contents, and then
stood very still.
They consisted of his I O U, and a single card — the king of
hearts.
On the back of the card a broad red line had been drawn in a
circle. It surrounded a small, almost imperceptible cross, and
below were the words, " I was cheating."
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THB PUNTS AT THB VILLAGE
A WEEK ON A SIND JHEEL
BY CAPTAIN W. B. WALKER, ROYAL ARTILLERY
Dawn was breaking as we left the station on the camels which
had been sent under charge of a native officer to meet us. Sending
our j>ersonal baggage round by the road, and taking only guns, we
started across country through high jungle grass. Presently the sun
rose a glowing mass, and the Indian day had broken : bird life woke
with the sun, partridges calling, countless minahs chattering, green
parrots screeching as they flew past, doves and blue jays fluttering
about in hundreds, whilst an occasional jackal slunk away from the
village where, prowling in search of food, he had made night hideous
with his unmelodious voice.
After a few miles of this jungle we reached cultivated country,
and saw evidence of our proximity to the jheel in large flights of
geese, duck, and other water birds passing to the cornfields for
their morning feed. In rather over an hour we reached our camp,
which had been sent on a day previously with the necessary estab-
lishnnent ; breakfast was awaiting us, not to mention half the
inhabitants of the neighbouring village, fifty pariah dogs, and our
three shikarees.
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294 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Whilst the others are discussing breakfast, getting out shooting
kit, etc., let me introduce the reader to our party. Captain D.,
happy as a schoolboy at getting away for a much-needed rest from
work; B., irresponsible as the usual subaltern, happy-go-lucky and
keen as mustard ; and myself. Our camp was pitched some two
hundred yards from the water's edge, which, nowhere more than
three feet deep, was here so shallow that our punts had to be kept
at the village about half a mile distant; and glad indeed were we
that it was so far ; it is impossible to imagine a more evil-smelling,
filthy place, consisting as it did of grass huts, in which human
beings, donkeys, ponies, sheep, cats, and dogs all lived together.
OUR BAGGAGE
At the landing-stage wrinkled hags were cleaning last night's catch
of fish, surrounded by herons and cormorants, which walked about
amongst the dogs and people fearlessly picking up the tit-bits.
Each getting into a punt similar in shape to those one finds on the
Thames, and poled by our shikarees with long bamboos, we set out
for the open water, and were soon in the thick of the duck, which
were literally in thousands, but rising at long ranges. Getting a bird
here and there whilst crossing this open water we reached some
large patches of withered lotus leaves; here the birds rose ver\'
much closer, giving beautiful shots. It was stealing along through
these lotus patches, the gunner crouching in the bow, and the shikaree
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A WEEK ON A SIND JHEEL 295
squatting in the stern poling quietly along, that we bagged most
of our geese, mallards, and pintails, which in the open would never
allow one to approach sufficiently close to get in a shot. But the
prettiest shooting of all was the driving. If we reached an open
piece of water where the duck were more than usually plentiful, we
ran the punts under cover of the clumps of reeds growing in the
jheel, and sent one or more larger boats to drive the birds over the
guns ; then indeed the fun began, fast and furious, and we really
wanted two guns each, which we unfortunately had not got.
The shikarees knew all the birds by their English names and
were at times most useful owing to their wonderful eyesight ; if one
were going to fire at a gadwell (the commonest species of duck on
THB CAMP
the Munchur jheel), they would hurriedly say, ** Do not fire, sahib,
a mallard is coming after him," and one reserved one's shot for the
better bird. It is very hard to distinguish one duck from another
at any distance when flying straight at you, but the shikarees seemed
to have no difficulty whatever in the matter, and could almost
always tell you that such and such was a mallard, shoveller, red-
headed pochard, cotton teal, or whatever it might happen to be.
Great emulation of course existed as to who should shoot the
greatest number of geese, but D. established a good lead the first
day, which he managed to maintain throughout. His shikaree, an
excellent man, who knew all the best places for mallard and geese,
having poled him to within thirty yards of a big flock in some
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296 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
rushes, as they rose D. let fly into them with a right and left oi
No. 5's and slew four. These were bar- headed geese; we got f^rey-
lags on other occasions.
Dotted all over the jheel were boats occupied by natives em-
ployed in fishing in a most primitive fashion. A man armedwiflna
long bamboo on one end of which was nailed a piece of flat board
propels the bo it by an occasional stroke, and then raising the pole
above his head brings the board down with a tremendous splash on
the water ; should a fish happen to be lying near where the splash
has occurred he darts from his weedy cover to another spot nearby,
THB START
whereupon the fisherman, picking up from beside him a conical-
shaped net, plunges it down over the fish. They catch about forty
fish a day in this manner, weighing from three-quarters up to two
pounds each, though occasionally very much larger ones are taken
in the seine nets, and make about a rupee a day by selling them.
The seine net is used with great effect. Having laid one out in a
large semi-circle, its joint owners advance in line, driving the fish
towards it by splashing the water, sounding drums, cymbals, and
conches. When the line has advanced close to the net the ends ot
the latter are drawn round to close the circle ; this movement being
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A WEEK ON A SIND JHEEL 297
SOME OF OUR SHIKAREES
AN INDIAN MILL
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298 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
completed, the fishermen jump inside the ring of the net, and the
terrified fish rushing round are caught in the meshes ; the men then
dive, remove and bring up one in each hand, throwing them to
their women-folk in the boats, who kill and store them.
The duck are also taken in thousands as follows : — A net about
half a mile long is suspended on poles some ten feet high, the lower
portion of it being looped up at intervals so as to form bags; and
during the day the duck are gradually driven away from other places
to the vicinity of the net. When it is quite dark several boats
coming behind the birds make them swim towards the trap. As soon
TWO OF THE GUNS
as the main portion ot the flock is about a hundred yards from the
meshes the natives light and swing about torches of pine-wood. The
duck, terrified, rise, fly into the net, and striking it, fall into the
looped-up pockets. In a good drive two hundred or more birds are
taken. These are disposed of to the local bunniah (who rents the
netting) for a halfpenny apiece. The netters are allowed to retain
about 40 per cent, of such birds, the bunniah buying the remainder
at this nominal rate. Curiously enough the natives prefer coot to
duck, and were always saying to us if we got within range of abic
bunch of these birds, ** Arhi maro, sahib, arhi maro ! " (Shoot coot,
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A WEEK ON A SIND JHEEL 299
sahifc, shoot coot !) If the bird was shot dead it was useless, as
good Mussulmans will not eat anything in which life has been unless
its throat has been cut and blood has flown. In this respect I do
not think our shikarees were very particular if no one saw them. I
noticed several coot whose throats, after cutting operations had been
performed, appeared singularly dry. It is a curious fact that even a
second after death has taken place not a drop of blood will flow.
Imnnediately the operation had occurred the bird was plucked,
rent asunder, and cast into the cooking-pot in the large boat which
FOUR GOOD SPECIMENS
accompanied us. This large boat was a great institution. Originally
intended to carry spare cartridges, lunch baskets, and drinks for us,
it actually carried a huqqah and the cooking-pot of enormous r
dimensions in which a stew of arhis, rice, and other foodstuffs
simmered all day. Round this were assembled the shikarees, when
off duty, and at all times a vast concourse of their relations, who,
like children at a bran-pie, plunged their hands into the pot for
what they might get. I was the only one who went after snipe, and
pn that day had capital sport. The snipe lay in osier beds about
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300 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
five feet high ; two beaters went through these whilst I walked along
a bank at the edge, and took the birds as they topped the osiers; one
found them also lying out in the long grass round the edge of the
iheel.
We always came back to camp for lunch, after which we
counted out the bag, had the birds tied up, labelled, and loaded on
camels for dispatch to Quetta. I say we, but it is perhaps incorrect,
as B. was a confirmed offender in this respect, even from the first
day, when he came back at 5.30 p.m. When we asked where he
had been, he said he had met three other men shooting. Had he
A GOOD BAG
shot with them ? Oh, yes, they had had one drive . . . but they
had a splendid lunch . . . cold partridges, snipe, duck, beer, limes,
hock, and salad . . . three kinds of salad ; the salads were splendid.
We could get no further information out of him on this subject.
After tea we generally went out for a shoot in a large stretch of reeds
opposite our camp, and had an hour when birds were flighting. We
got chiefly teal, and by snap shooting at that, too, as they went in
and out amongst the rushes. The bags in the evening were hardly
commensurate to the amount of powder burnt.
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A WEEK ON A SIND JHEEL 301
In addition to the kinds of duck already mentioned, we shot
widgeon, cotton-teal, blue-winged teal, white-eyed, red-crested,
and black-headed pochards, plover, pigeon, and quail, as well as
several coarse kinds of water birds for our shikarees. The total bag
was 631 duck, 25 geese, 82 snipe, 119 others.
The shikarees had asked us to keep all the empty cartridge
cases instead of throwing them away, as they wished to take them
to their own villages for their children to play with; but the children
of the local village used to beg so for them that we threw a handful
or two amongst them as the boats approached the landing stage.
THE END OF THE DAY
Frightful scrambles ensued, and the victorious ones emerged with
** rings on their fingers and bells on their toes," or rather cartridge
cases answering the same purpose, of course dripping from head to
foot with oose and filthy mud, whilst others filled their cases with
the oose and quaffed it as if it were nectar. Fortunately they wear
no clothes, so cannot spoil any, and apparently filth agrees with
thetn internally as well as externally.
A great fund of amusement was B.*s camp equipment. It
consisted of a 21 lb. tent which he was under the impression one
could stand up in inside ; it actually stood 3 ft. at the ridge-pole,
MO. CZXV11I. VOL, XXII. — March i^o§ X
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302 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
He was also possessed of an iron truckle-bed weighing about two
hundredweight, which, under ordinary circumstances, we should have
been quite unable to get inside the tent, but which through D.'s
and my united endeavours did get there, together with much other
matter, while B. was eating those wonderful salads on the first day.
A kit bag stuffed with cartridges, gun-case, a tin of shortbread,
and a cup completed his outfit, if one does not also include a fur-
lined coat, which hardly seemed a necessity with the thermometer
standing at 98 in the shade.
The whole arrangements of the camp went like clockwork.
We had merely to give a hint of anything: we required, from a sheep
to an egg, audit promptly appeared. This and our heartiest thanks
were due to a friend of D.'s living in Sind, who had warned the
head-man of the village to look after our requirements, and had
picked out the two best shikarees on the jheel for us.
We were a very despondent trio as our train, leaving behind the
green and fertile country, crawled at snail's pace up the Bolan into
barren Baluchistan, especially as a year is a long time to look across
to a repetition of our week's shoot in Sind.
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ST. PATRICK WITH BOB JOHNSON UP
PORTRAITS OF TURF CELEBRITIES
BY HERRING
BY LILIAN E. BLAND
On looking over photographs representing horses of the present day,
and comparing them with the old prints of sporting celebrities, one
is forcibly struck by the sameness and lack of character in the modern
work, in which as a rule the horse is standing in a conventional
attitude. Of course, the camera lens draws true to Hfe, although
the photographer can alter that ** truth " considerably, giving pro-
minence to good qualities, and hiding any bad points. I have, for
instance, taken four consecutive snapshots of a horse from various
positions, the result being four totally different animals ; and this is
one reason why I think the old prints, although open to criticism in
some respects, give one a better idea of the horse portrayed than
any modern photograph. It is with the kind assistance of Mr. S. B.
Darby, of Rugby, a well-known connoisseur of old prints, that I
have been able to write this article, as he knows the history of every
horse and jockey down to the more minute details.
X 2
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304 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
It is interesting to compare the old type of St. Leger winners
with some of those one sees now contending for our big events, and
to speculate on what the Chifneys, Bill Scott, Ben Smith, and
others would have thought of the fashionable American seat, when
they rode so long that they hardly seemed to rise in the saddle !
Chifney senior, at any rate, had a good opinion of himself, and
at the youthful age of eighteen said that he " could ride horses
in a better manner in a race to beat others than any person I
ever knew in my time," and probably few differed from his opinion.
The jockeys then were apparently not particular in their get-up,
which is described as peg-tops, brown breeches, white stockings, and
FILHO DA PUTA, JACKSON UP
short gaiters. Chifney also sported a ruffle and frill whenever he
'* took silk,'* while love-locks hung on each side beneath his jockey's
cap. Are there many men now who could rival Ben Smith's
pluck and loyalty when, a horse having broken his leg with a kick,
he refused to dismount, and won the race, as he deserved, on the Duke
of Hamilton's Ironsides ?
Endless are the anecdotes about these jockeys, their gameness
and endurance. Frank Buckle thought nothing of hacking ninety-
two miles to Newmarket and back to ride trials.
It would be a lengthy proceeding to give an account of all
Herring's works. He was at one time a well-known coachman of
the London and York Highflyer, but he gave up the reins for the
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PORTRAITS OF TURF CELEBRITIES 305
paint brush, and his first study in anatomy was the fractured leg
of Spartan. His series of St. Leger winners began in 1815, but they
were copied with slight alteration from other artists' paintings. Thus
his portrait of Filho da Puta was evidently taken from Ben Marshall's
fine mezzotint of this horse and Sir Joshua on Newmarket Heath
before the great match.
Filho is described as 16 hands, fine-tempered, leggy, and near-
sighted, and he is depicted with coarse hocks, which a noted
veterinary surgeon once told Mr. Darby were inherited in the shape
of spavins by nearly all his stock, which in those times meant good
JACK SPIGOT WITH BILL SCOTT UP
business for the firing irons. Filho's St. Leger was a remarkable one,
from the fact that at the close of the betting the first four horses
were exactly placed. Croft was very confident of winning, and his
owner. Sir William Maxwell, in the exuberance of his spirits
smashed all the pier glasses at the " Reindeer," and "longed in his
rapture for more." An amusing story is also related about the colt's
name, which was a puzzler to two youths, one of whom backed
Filler, and the other Pewter, and when the winner's name was
shouted there ensued a battle royal, each claiming to have won, until
the police interfered and explained.
Before the match with Sir Joshua, Croft, owing to ill- health,
asked John Scott to take charge of the Northern crack, and the
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3o6 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
latter, true to his methods, wanted to run the horse rather above
himself. Unfortunately Croft, when he came to Newmarket,
thought the colt had not done enough work, and sent him along
again, which, as John remarked, ** cooked him." The horse lost
some lengths at the start by rearing up, and could never quite
catch Sir Joshua ; but the match was the making of Scott, as
Mr. Houldsworth bought Filho for 3,000 guineas, and took the
young trainer with him to Mansfield.
The first horse that Herring painted from life was Jack Spigot,
winner of the St. Leger in 1821. He was a grand foal, but his dam
took to galloping in the paddock, so Mr. Powlett got a tenant to
allow his mare to bring up the colt, and wanted to christen it
"Jack Faucet," after the farmer. The latter objected, however,
on the ground that it was certain to win the Leger. **Well,
John," said Mr. Powlett, " a Faucet's nothing without a Spigot," so
Jack Spigot the colt became. After the race the colt took such a
dislike to Bill Scott that he would never let him come near him again,
and went quite mad even if he heard his voice. The first ten horses
that Herring painted, from Filho to Jerry, in 1824, were published by
Sheardown & Son, of Doncaster, and the artist is supposed to
have superintended the colouring. Only a limited number were
printed for subscribers, and they were brought out in atlas folio,
engraved by Sutherland.
From 1825 Herring painted the winners of the Derby and
St. Leger for Fuller & Son, who pubHshed them each year down to
the middle of the forties. The subscribers' prints have a Miner\'as
head stamped on the margin. Herring also painted a series of stud
horses, Lord Egremont's Gohanna being the first ; and a few Oaks
winners by the same artist were published by Moore. At a later
period Fores published some prints of racers and stud horses.
Unfortunately, many of the old prints have lost some of their
value by having been mounted on linen and varnished in the days
when glass, I believe, was expensive.
Herring never flattered his horses, and, if anything, rather
exaggerated their faults. In his pictures. Barefoot and Ebor are
too long in the back ; Reveller looks more the type of a harness
horse; Launcelot, Bill Scott up, with a strong double bridle, is
more the style of a Leicestershire weight-carrier than a St. Leger
winner. This horse had enormous speed, and pulled even harder
than his brother Touchstone, with his head right into bis chest, and
hardly anyone could hold him. Jerry and Matilda resemble polo
ponies ; and, as a matter of fact, the latter was only 14.1^ when she
was taken up as a yearling. John Day described her when first
foaled as looking ** about the size of a buck rabbit, with a black-list
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PORTRAITS OF TURF CELEBRITIES 307
stripe down its back." She was the first of Mr. Petre's memorable
St. Leger trio.
Lord Jersey watched Herring painting Bay Middleton's portrait,
and remarked on the length of the horse's head. ** Yes, my lord,"
replied Herring, " if he hadn't had so long a head, you would not
have had so long a horse." In Bay Middleton three heads exactly
measured his length, and according to this artist the rule of three
heads worked out 99 times out of 100; but as far as I can remember
from my student days in Paris, a horse's length generally worked out
at about 2 J heads, and a well-made horse would stand in a square,
LORD BGRBMONT S GOHANNA — BAY HORSB
i.e. equal height and length. Perhaps of all his portraits his chef
d*ceuvre is The Duchess, a beautiful bay mare with black points.
Ben Smith is up in Sir B. Graham's colours — yellow, blue sleeves,
blue and yellow striped cap. This mare won the St. Leger in 1816.
Almost equally fine are some of his Derby winners, and Queen of
Trumps and Crucifix, the latter described as very narrow in the
chest, and suffering perpetually from speedy cut. The harlequin
colours of Mr. Watts were frequently to the fore; amongst others
he owned Altisidore, Blacklock, Barefoot, and Rockingham.
One of the rarest coloured mezzotints is of the celebrated
Doctor Syntax, who won for his owner, Mr. Riddell, over twenty
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3o8 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
^old cups and plates. The " Doctor," as they called him in the
North, was barely 15 h., mouse-coloured, with such a velvety coat
that people used to say he had no hair except on his mane and tail.
A slight canter would bring out the veins in a network. From a
two-year-old he never would stand the touch of whip or spur, but
Bob Johnson could get every ounce out of him by merely stroking
and talking to him. Like his daughter Beeswing, he did not care
to carry more than 8 st. 11 lb. He won the Gold Cup at Preston
for seven years in succession, and the Guild made so certain that he
would win it the eighth time that they had prepared gilt shoes and
BAREFOOT, GOODISON UP
a procession in his honour. Unluckily he was only able to divide
Reveller and Jack Spigot.
Bill Scott bought Sir Tatton Sykes as a yearling for jf 100, and
the colt was described as one of the ugliest and coarsest little
creatures that ever breathed Yorkshire air. On the real Sir Tatton
coming over to inspect him, he said: " Dear me, Mr. Scott; how
his head grows ! '* Bill fervently asked him to " Look at his hocks!
these will take him up the hill on the Surrey side ! " The colt was
trained by his father and William Gates, and despite the latter's
recollections of Lottery he said he had never ridden anything like
him. Of course he should have won the Derby, but Scott lost his
temper, and, while he was swearing at the starter, the other horses
slipped away before he realised it. He rode him later to victory
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PORTRAITS OF TURF CELEBRITIES 309
in the St. Leger, but he was so weak from wasting that half-way
up the distance he dropped forward on to his neck fairly exhausted,
and it was a wonder that the colt, who wanted plenty of riding,
got home at all. After the race he made an appointment with
Mr. Herring to be painted at ** five to-morrow morning, sir."
Mr. Robertson was, I think, unique in one respect, for the ^rs^
horse he ever owned, Little Wonder, won the Derby in 1840, a rank
outsider. Macdonald was up, and Bill Scott, who had backed
his own mount heavily, called out in the race: *' One hundred to
THE DUCHBSS, BEN SMITH UP
Stop him, Mac ! *' But the latter only replied : ** It is too late
now, Mr. Scott; you should have spoken before."
These illustrations are copied from some of the old prints that
are occasionally passing through Mr. Darby's hands. Unfortunately
they give no idea of the colouring, which in the originals is wonder-
fully fine and clear and very true to detail ; the tints are a harmony
in tone, mellowed with age, whereas the reproductions are crude
in colour, and of course the old plates are very much worn, and the
reproductions have not the same finished detail.
The old coloured prints in good preservation are worth from
-£7 to £\o each, and the uncoloured prints from £'^ to ;f 4 ; this, of
course, means on Whatman's paper with watermark and date,
untrimmed margins and full reading titles.
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SOME FISHING NOTES
BY EDMUND F. T. BENNETT
There are many kinds of fishing stories, and people who do not
fish are always ready to believe none of them. For instance, an
angler hooks a perch by the eye, and catches the eye only, but on
casting into the same place with this very eye as a bait he actually
catches the fish with its own eye. Now comes the cross-questioning.
Where did the worm which was on the hook go ? Why did the fish
seize a bait the like of which it could never have seen before, and
could only see now with its one remaining eye ? Fishermen, how-
ever, get beyond disbelief in anything, for they see so many un-
accountable things that they are surprised at nothing. Some of the
old fishing stories are a bit difficult, and we should like to have more
proof that a pike has been known to catch a horse by the nose
when drinking near its holt. But let even the unbelieving modern
take a header into an out-of-the-way pond in which he has seen the
big pike, and perhaps he will not feel quite so much at his ease as if
he had not seen that same fish. Fishermen are patient people, and
listen to stories and theories about fish and fishing which do not
always appear to the layman as probable or possible. As ever)'
fisherman is ready with stories and theories, the following may be of
some value to the stock of information which yearly accumulates on
the subject.
At Clifton Mill, near Rugby, on a hot summer day, I was
looking into a pool with some schoolfellows, when a small jack of
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SOME FISHING NOTES 311
half a pound or so dashed down stream, and one of my friends shot
a stone with his tweaker and killed the fish. This pool was in an
overflow of the mill dam, and consequently well below where we
were standing ; the fish was darting through the shallow at the end
when the stone struck the water, and at that instant it turned belly
1 up and was carried on by its impetus, though dead, for a few yards.
; There was no mark whatever on the jack, so the concussion of the
^ Stone on the water was transmitted directly to the fish and killed it.
This seems an improbable story, but if anyone does not believe it
l' let him get a friend to slap the water above his head with an oar,
when he is coming up after a dive, and is about two feet from the
t surface, and he will practically experience what a friend of mine did
L from the thoughtless action of another man, and be nearly stunned
by the blow, or perhaps be less lucky and be quite stunned.
On two occasions I have seen a fish swim at full speed high and
dry on to the land. The first was when fishing in a curious little
out-of-the-way loch near Forres. I had caught a few trout, and
was surprised at the action of one near where my fly touched the
water. This fish was swimming quickly round and round on the
surface, and then made straight for where I was standing and ran
itself up on to the sand at my feet. I saw a peculiar trembUng of
its side, and was immediately reminded of a trout I had caught in
Yorkshire some years before, which I had sent to London for
examination. So I killed this fish at once and cut it open ; and
there sure enough were the enlarged pyloric appendages, as Frank
Buckland called them ; but to my eye, as in the Yorkshire fish, they
seemed to be maggots feeding on the alimentary canal of the fish,
and thriving greatly on their diet.
But I must hark back to this Yorkshire trout. My brother
and I went out to fish the Codbeck, near Thirsk, but found the
stream in full flood, and water well out on the fields. Fishing being
impossible, we set out to walk home, and when passing a narrow
road-ditch I noticed the wave of something going through the water.
Plunging my net in, a trout of about three-quarters of a pound was
caught, and as I was about to return the fish to the water I noticed
a peculiar tremor passing along its sides. Both of us were so struck
by the phenomenon that I cut the trout open and decided to send
the creature at once to the best authority on fish, from whom I
received the explanation given above. Among all the trout I have
caught these two instances of a peculiar tremor in the sides are
the only ones I have ever noticed, but doubtless others have been
recorded.
When fishing.in the Dovey, below Machynlleth, a silvery white-
trout rushed ashore to mv feet. The action of this fish was entirely
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312 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
different from that of the Forres brown trout, but I thought that
this was surely another case of Frank Buckland's theory. I found,
however, that this fresh-run sea-trout was covered with lice, and
that instead of throwing itself out of the water with that whirring
noise which is so often heard, and splashing in again, it had been
goaded to the madness of suicide ashore.
Scotch worm fishermen fish for trout in a way that would
horrify those who are accustomed persistently to look upon this
fish as very shy of men. I saw a party of three miners fishing
a small burn, splashing about, and apparently taking no precautions
whatever either to hide themselves or avoid frightening the fish.
Each man would fish quickly down stream till he caught up his
friend, then walk past him and splash into the river a few yards
below. Yet they all caught trout. The passage of these anglers
certainly had the effect of frightening the fish for a time, but I had
some sport myself soon after they were gone, the river being in good
order for the fly. Now the question comes. How long do trout take
to recover from such a rough visit ? This is by no means easy to
answer, but it does seem probable that rough fishing does not
necessarily spoil the chance of finer fishing being successful ; even
on the clear southern rivers trout become accustomed to the move-
ments of fishermen, and quickly recover their appetites, perhaps
after one of their number has been making a great fuss to get free
from the hook fast fixed in its jaw.
Trout do not swim about in shoals, and consequently show an
individuality which is not seen among those fish which do move about
in shoals. Every trout seems to be directly affected by its surround-
ings, so a dark-coloured one will become light if lying on a bright
gravelly bottom, and again become dark if it takes up its station in
a dark place. The trout, too, will feed in a different way in each
place it finds itself in, simply because its food is brought to it in a
variety of ways. This being so, fishermen must fish for this most
excellent creature in a variety of ways. It is most amusing to hear
the recipes anglers have for catching trout, but the most wonderful
development of fly-fishing is the prohibition of the sunken fly on
some waters. Of course a club is at liberty to make any rules it
pleases, but when all its members are compelled to fish in exactly
the same way fishing must lose a great deal of its interest, and
tend to become a game of skill regulated by rules. Let us hope
that the man with the whistle will not appear on the scene, and
further interfere with that freedom from supervision which to the
angler is an important part of his recreation.
Trout lie in some positions where a dry fly is quite useless, and
in others where the same must be said of the sunken fly, and again
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SOME FISHING NOTES 313
the fish will prefer the dry to the sunken on one day, and the oppo-
site on another. All this has been noticed time after time by fly-
fishers, and we seem to be approaching a period when an effort will
be made to treat our highly civilised rivers in such a way that
fishing on them will require a greater amount of observation than is
now demanded, but is only necessary in those waters where nature
has been left very much to itself.
Weed-cutting has been reduced to a science, for clearing an
overgrown river is as necessary as clearing a field of its crops.
There is, however, one notable difference in the two cases, for the
field's first duty is to produce crops, and the river's to produce fish.
If we treated fields so that they would harbour game our present
system of farming would have to be entirely altered ; but rivers
should be so dealt with that fish could find not only safe harbour-
age, but food produced in abundance naturally. We might even
hope that the stock of fish would be kept up without depending so
much on artificial means for the supply.
Such treatment would upset many pet schemes which are now
in operation, for instead of rivers being continually worried by
manual labour, pools and shallows might be formed by the action of
the water itself directed by movable obstructions.
Let us suppose that a deep pool has a shallow below it which
has so silted up that there is no lie for fish. It is evident that a
dam placed across the shallow with an opening in the middle would
quickly scour out a channel for fish to lie in, and the expense of
such treatment would be very small compared with the laborious
and often ineffectual methods now in vogue.
Weed-cutting in the actual channel of a river should be avoided
as much as possible, and intelligent direction of the water itself will
prevent that overgrowth which so often covers the entire bed of the
stream. Sluggish streams cannot be dealt with in this way, because
it is impossible to get the necessary rush of water to scour the bed,
and clearing away weeds must be done by manual labour.
The action of trout in a river which is not too much improved
always appears to be different from that of fish which are too much
looked after and too much protected. Fish seem to deteriorate if
not hunted, and when the otter, heron, and pike are never seen on a
stream care should be taken that the angler's difficulties be not
so minimised that the trout become tame, and every kind of fish
refuge should be saved.
Some of the wildest trout I have ever caught have been in a
river perpetually fished in every sort of way by crowds of anglers.
These fish had become so accustomed to the sight of men that they
seemed to have a sort of friendly disregard for their presence, and
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314 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
would rise in a most aggravating way all round one's fly and never
touch it. When a spate came on the workmen in the town appeared
in force, and caught enough trout to make one think the river must
have suffered as a sporting ground. But not a bit of it ; there were
lots offish always rising when the water went down, and the only
way I can account for this is that small trout were washed down
from the upper reaches, and quickly became large fish in the more
roomy waters in which they found themselves, so when a trout was
caught another was ready to take its place.
Close to the town were many good trout, and most anglers had
a try for them before they started seriously to fish, because trying
for these hardly seemed a serious matter, as they would so seldom
take one's fly. One blazing hot day as I passed along, intending to
fish a mile or so from the town, 1 saw some of these fine fellows feed-
ing steadily. I could not pass them as I meant to do, but set to
work on them at first in my usual unserious mood. One fish at last
appeared catchable. My first cast fell a little too near him, and the
dry fly only attracted his attention for a moment. The next cast,
however, was rightly judged, for the fly settled on the water at the
proper distance above him and slowly drifted down. There was the
quiet rise without splash, and the fly disappeared between the white
jaws as the fish sank to its station. It was interesting to observe
that this highly-educated fish did not realise that the fly had a hook
in it, but shook its head to rid itself of something it did not want.
Well, this was a pounder, and five others of about the same size, or
over, made up a very good morning's basket. This part of the river
was a long dam, except in floods it was very slow-running, and
there was a pleasant feeling of triumph in catching fish all along this
reach, because they were a very clever company. Even a dry fly had
no charms for them sometimes, and one day every fish seemed to be
rising, but the most beautifully placed fly was disregarded. When
this happens, as it too often does for the fisherman, the question is,
What is to be done to catch fish ?
The best authorities have given their views on what a trout
thinks about ; but the colour theorist, and the other man, are both
proved to be wrong on some days, and notably on a day when
nothing will tempt fish to take one's fly. Two of us toiled all day
among rising trout, and not merely rising, but feeding ; we tried
every imaginable fly in every possible way, but caught none until
the very end of the day. Now, this trout was feeding steadily, as so
many others were, and the flies were taken down like clockwork.
Three flies went past it, one artificial, but they all looked the same on
the water, and yet the natural flies on each side of the sham one were
taken. Another and another try with the same fly; again the sham
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SOME FISHING NOTES 3^5
and the natural floated down ; the natural disappeared, and at last
the artificial, and the trout was caught. But what induced this same
fish time after time to refuse the sham, and at last take it, under
precisely the same conditions, who shall say ? It may have been
that the slightest tremble was imparted to the successful cast, which
at last deceived the fish ; but never was there a more disappointing
day for an angler, because the river seemed to be alive with trout
gone mad for food.
The wild man's instinct sometimes directs the fisherman to use
the only possible fly in his book, and I had that fly one day, but have
no sort of explanation except this as to why I put it on. It was a
hideous big thing, made by a little boy out of a buff* hen's hackle;
the very sight of it ought to have frightened away all the trout in the
clear low summer water; and yet it was the right thing to catch fish
with, for the perfectly tied flies of all kinds had done nothing. An-
other hideous fly I remember using as a boy in Ireland, tied by a
man who perhaps had never tied a fly before. I saw the white duck's
feather laid on to the green-silk-covered hook, and because its set
did not please the tier the feather was made fast to the hook, near
the bend ; but to my great joy it got me a good trout.
A wise fisherman once told me that he had carefully noted the
powers of wet and dry fly, and on his river he had come to the con-
clusion that the wet and dry man would catch about the same number
of fish in the season. We know that trout will refuse to be caught
when feeding on some particular fly, even though the imitation is to
our eyes perfect ; but fish even at such a time will take almost any
fly if thrown on to the opposite bank, and dropped from there into
the stream, for the instant it touches the water it is seized. One
such case among many I remember at Bakewell, and when shaking
backwards and forwards in a small pool at the side the fish I
had thus caught, quantities of apple-green flies were washed out
of its gills, but the fly which caught it was in no way like
these.
Many anglers talk of fish being put down for the day, or for half
an hour, and so on, but this seems to be only a fancy which has been
passed on from one man to another, and believed to be a fact. Now
let no fisherman think a trout is put down for any length of time, for
patience will soon show that the fish very quickly recovers from
fright, and is ready to be tried for again. Of course the creature
may be so terrified that it will dash away, and possibly take up a new
station for a time, but generally speaking it will be seen quietly re-
turning to its favourite haunt, and if properly fished for be caught at
last. There are always some celebrated trout in every river which
can only be caught either by accident or by some very clever fishing.
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3i6 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
To most, however, it is a waste of time to set to work to catch
one particular fish, but from a naturalist's point of view the time is
well spent, for the way a trout really feeds can only be found out by
patient watching.
In a perfectly still mill-dam the trout cruises about, never going
very far from some favourite hiding place, and if you stand perfectly
still you are soon treated as some object from which no danger is to
be apprehended. Mark the course the fish takes, and you wuU get
your chance to lay your dry fly in its way when its head is turned
from you, or when it is rising at a natural floating fly. In such
water the greatest delicacy of casting is required, and fish may be
made shy very easily by any sort of roughness, and take longer to
recover their spirits than in any other sort of place. If you do hook
one drag him away at once from his feeding ground, for there is sure
to be another not far off", and get him into your basket as soon as
possible.
A trout feeding in a stream between two branches may be fished
for for any length of time, and if the one cast that can kill him be
made he is pretty sure not to refuse. I got two trout so protected
one day after laying siege to their strongholds for a very long time.
Bungled casts did not frighten either of them, but in each case the
one right cast got the fish.
There was one pool in a certain trout stream out of which I
could not take a trout either by up or down stream fishing, and
many was the day that I tried to do so. The bank behind one was
high and had trees on it, and the bank in front was also well wooded.
The only way to cast seemed to be almost up or down stream, but
neither way was any good. One day I sat down directly op|x>site
the rising fish, and no doubt the bank behind me prevented the trout
from being alarmed at my presence. The pool was perhaps eight
feet deep where the rapid into it ended, and was not more than
fifteen yards across. I found it possible to wade out two or three
yards, and to continue my observations. The trout were still rising,
sometimes less than the length of my rod away. I now let them get
accustomed to the rod over the stream, but the branches of the trees
made the rod appear not very unnatural, 1 suppose, to the fish. With
great care I tossed a single dry fly on to the water, and at once got
one of these fish. I always fished this pool afterwards standing in it
quite near the rising fish, which at first sight seemed to be the most
impossible place for sport of any kind.
It would be possible to describe many other places and the
various ways in which trout feed in them, but long study of these
fish has allowed me to form a few conclusions about artificial flies,
their colour and their shape.
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SOME FISHING NOTES 317
I am sure it is much more difficult to choose the right fly to
use if it is sunk, than if it is floated. You will go to a river and
show your dry fly to a local man, and he will tell you it is no use
in that water. Don't mind him, for if you offer a floating fly well,
of almost any shape, colour, or size, to a feeding trout it will at
least dash at it. If on the other hand you are a wet fly man, and
a down stream fisherman, listen to the local authority, for he is
pretty sure to know a thing or two about his river. I am con-
strained to think that a trout cares very much about the size and
colour of a fly under water, but cannot trouble itself to study the
floating one in the same way. You may go to a dry fly river in the
south of England and have the best of sport by floating pure
Scotch, Irish, or Welsh flies, but it is quite probable that if you
sink these same flies you will not have sport, whereas if you safik,
say, a Derbyshire pink and white bumble you would catch fish.
But after all can we do better than the Japanese man, who
will stand on a stone over a pool, and make his fly flit about in
the air, touching the water here, and then there, until the fish is
induced to believe that a good rise of fly is going on ? Try this
way and every way, and still there are other ways to fish by float-
ing or sinking your fly, and plenty still to find out, not only in
fly-tying but in rod-making, not only in up and down stream
casting, but in cross stream casting also.
And lastly we have to find out how to make rivers keep them-
selves clean, how to help fish to increase naturally, and how to
encourage a natural supply of food for our spotted friends. Surely
fishing offers more than most sports in the way of the best health-
giving recreation, and every possible effort should be made to
protect our rivers, and see that their management is in competent
hands. As for fishermen and how to manage them, being myself
one, I can only say ** Aweel,'' which may mean a great deal or very
little, so no opinion need be given.
NO. cxxviil. VOL. xxn.— March 1906
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I. AT THB START
MODERN LACROSSE
BY C. E. THOMAS
It is not a difficult matter to trace the history of Lacrosse as a
recreation of the pale-faces, but the Indian genius who first evolved
the pastime from which has grown the most graceful of modern ball
games remains unhonoured by English players. Perhaps he figures
in the folk-tales of the Sioux, the Chippeways, or some other tribe
who played the game, but to us he is merely an object of such in-
definite worship as is the equally bold originator of rowing, to whom
Mr. R. H. Forster, a water-poet, pays tribute : —
But worthy of honour was he, because
He was father of rowing, whoever he was.
In lacrosse, as in rowing, the prehistoric effort was particularly
notable, for a new line was struck out. The first man to navigate a
stream by means of a bundle of reeds was boldly original. So was
the man who soared above the primeval instinct to obtain recreation
by kicking an enemy's head about (presumed in some quarters to be
the origin of football) or of hitting something inanimate with a club
— whence we have cricket, hockey, and golf. He caught something
and carried it until dispossessed ; and, considering that the process
of dispossession is sometimes painful even in these enlightened days,
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MODERN LACROSSE 319
the early efifort must have left its marks on the devotees of the game
in the " High and Far Off times." So much so that a process of
punning deduction may lead us to believe that the father of lacrosse
came from the Chippeway tribe.
Whatever the actual origin, certain it is that lacrosse started
with the Indians, that the tribal contests were suggestive of warfare
rather than of sport, that teams were unlimited in numbers, that the
field of play was anything up to a mile in length, and that the
squaws had an inconvenient habit of switching the players as an
inducement not to bold' the ball too long, but to pass hard slnd
quickly.
But we have improved all these things, and little remains of the
2. CLOSB CHECKING
original Indian game, save the weird war-cries some teams consider
necessary when calling for a pass. There is no warfare now, despite
the corfctention of scoffers from other games who witness a hard-
checkinig match when no referee is present, and pretend that the
main object of lacrosse is to hit the man who has the ball some-
where, preferably on the head. We have limited the field of play,
although wanderings on the wing and behind goal are not unknown
when the comfort of players of games on adjoining pitches is not
interfered with. The squaws, too, merely sit in pavilions and
applaud, and the switching is done by the Press, the members of
Y 2
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320 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
which, however, are lenient to our faults, for the claims of a fasci-
nating amateur pastime pale to insignificance in this country before
those of a professional sport which attracts big gates.
In Canada the game was first played by the whites in the '50's,
and not being above receiving lessons from all blacks, the Canadians
took lacrosse to their hearts until it became the national pastime,
and developed professionalism with the glorious attributes apper-
taining thereto.
The celebration of the twenty-first anniversary of the West
London Club this year reminds us that lacrosse has had plenty of
3. SHORT PASSING
time to take root in this country, where it was first introduced in
the *7o's.
The plant is full of life, although its growth has not been rapid.
The sturdiest branch is in the Manchester district ; Lancashire and
Cheshire are the county flowers, and there is a budding blossom in
Yorkshire. The second notable branch is in the London district,
smaller, but with more county blooms, in Kent, Essex, Middlesex,
and Surrey, and fine flowers at Oxford and Cambridge. A third
branch, an offshoot from the London one, is in the Bristol district,
very sturdy, and throwing a sprig or two into Wales ; while a fourth
branch which is being carefully tended is in the Midlands, where
much good might result if Birmingham acted up to its preferential
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MODERN LACROSSE 321
faith regarding the colonies, and helped to nurture the Canadian
plant.
The North of England Lacrosse Association handbook contains
this year the names of thirty-eight clubs, in addition to eleven
schools ; twenty clubs are affiliated to the South of England Lacrosse
Association, these including Bristol and Wills' of the West, where
there are seven clubs playing regularly, while the Midlands have
three clubs in all. A strong start at Cardiff this season gives hope
of the game in Wales, and a revival in Ireland would be very
welcome.
Although the Manchester and London districts are agreed
4. LEARNING COMBINATION ON ATTACK
in their enthusiasm over a game which gives the fullest oppor-
tunities for the exercise of skill, pace, and endurance, they
differ in regard to the programmes they arrange. In the North,
League matches predominate, and are considered necessary to the
salvation of the game. In the South they were tried and found
wanting, and men are content with ordinary games and a knock-out
competition — the Flags — in the latter part of the season. The
North say that League games make men keener and teams keep
together better when they are played ; the South reply that League
matches supply a false incentive, and lacrosse can stand on its own
merits. The North retort that it is a rare thing for the South to
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322 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE.
beat the North, and Leagues might give the South a better chance.
The South point out that the North have in any case a far larger
band of players from whom to select a team. Here are the two
sides of a question which will not be settled by any argument of
mine, and if both divisions are satisfied there is no necessity for
acrimony in the notes of lacrosse writers at a loss for a subject.
The game is soundly governed in this country, and as it is
delightfully free from rules and penalties the controlling bodies are
not greatly exercised in mind regarding doubtful points. Lacrosse
men are not cursed by too much whistle, and it is one of the few
5. *\PLAY"
games which can be played in a fairly satisfactory manner without
a referee. This is, of course, due to the absence of an off-side rule,
which is all that the spectator need know about rules, and explains
the position of the field of twelve a side, with the first attack man
right on to the goal he is attacking. Naturally such a formation
leads to heavy scoring, and reporters of games might reflect on this
when they describe a 10 to 5 victory as an easy win ; it has probably
been a very hard fight from start to finish, with one attack only
slightly the better, and both defences somewhat outclassed.
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MODERN LACROSSE
323
For the benefit of the uninitiated the following diagram is given
to show lacrosse positions, A being members of one team and B
their opponents : —
I A. Goal. I
A. Point.
S. 1st Home.
A, Cover Point.
B. 2nd Home.
A . Defence Wing.
B. Attack Wing.
A . Attack Wing.
B. Defence Wing.
A. 3rd Man.
B. 3rd Home.
A. Centre.
• Ball.
B. Centre.
A. 3rd Home.
B, 3rd Man.
A . Defence Wing.
B. Attack Wing.
A, Attack Wing.
B. Defence Wing.
A. 2nd Home.
B. Cover Point.
A. 1st Home.
B. Point.
I S. Goal. I
With a defence paired with an attack right up the field, lacrosse
is in a great measure a man-to-man contest, eleven duels in con-
stant progress, and the goalkeepers taking a hand on occasion.
The first photograph gives a good idea of the ''pairing,'*
showing as it does half the field, with the centres facing.
The duels were very marked in the days when a defence man's
great object was to throw the ball hard and far somewhere among
the homes ; then point, cover, and third man often practically sat
on their respective opponents and the ball went to the goalkeeper.
It was excellent defence in those days, but not so noticeable now,
except when there is a bright particular '* star " in a team to be
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324 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
kept quiet, and his checker has orders practically to confine him-
self to this duty. The photograph "Close Checking" vvas specially
taken to illustrate this, and the ball is coming to the player in the
dark jersey.
In the old game men kept in a great measure to the positions
as shown in the diagram, and attacks played defences' own game by
not wandering much, while a good dodger was considered a brilliant
attack. Now attacks more often than not '* buzz " down on goal in
a body, with the wings wide, and are constantly moving in and out
to trick their opponents, while instead of long shots at goal there is a
continual passing and repassing of the ball at close quarters, until
6. TRYING TO DODGB
a man is well placed and sufficiently clear ot opposition to shoot
with good chance of success. Defence wings and third man, too,
assist in forcing the attack, while defence men often work the ball
up by short passes instead of long throws.
There are many more bright incidents in the niodern open
game than in the old, while there has been a remarkable improve-
ment in crosse-handling, the main feature of the game, in the last
few years.
The improvement in modern lacrosse, both from the point ol
view of player and spectator, is entirely due to the valuable lessons
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MODERN LACROSSE 325
learned from the members of the Toronto team who visited England
in igo2. The Canadians revolutionised English play, showing us
quickly that our old-fashioned methods were useless against modern
tactics ; they taught us the science of backing-up and short passing
both on attack and defence, and, in fact, gave us an inkling of
the real possibilities of lacrosse.
That they beat us all round is a matter of ancient history, but
they did it with new weapons, and introduced to us a more baggy,
more handy, smaller and lighter crosse. Bagginess, when the
new crosse is in action, is shown in some of the photographs in
the article.
7. A 8UCCBSSFUL ATTACK
After a little preliminary hesitation we were all converted and
altered our rules to admit the new weapon. Now if perchance we
lay loving hands on one of the old-fashioned clumsy implements
with which we performed doughty deeds of old, it is but to wonder
how we could ever have played with such a stick.
With the stick now in general use it is natural that the game
should have improved, for catching is much easier, manoeuvres are
thereby facilitated, and lacrosse gains in pace and brightness. The
new crosse has, in fact, greatly simplified the elements of the game,
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326 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
while it has added to the skill of match play, and the novice who
troubles to practise can by its aid naore rapidly make himself a
useful member of his team than in former days.
The novice must always find lacrosse harder than other games,
for anybody can kick or hit a ball in some fashion, but crosse work
is an art more difficult to attain. Most of our recruits have to be
taken raw, for schoolboy players are unfortunately rare, and some-
times members of the awkward squad do not surv^ive that first
afternoon's practice undertaken at the instance of some enthusiast.
It is admittedly annoying to find that several feet of netting is not
sufficient to hold a small rubber ball, and that the ball when placed
in the net and thrown does not travel always as the mind of the
novice thrower would direct. But the A B C of the game is now
enormously simplified, and the man who is really keen will get on
rapidly.
Lacrosse is, however, not a game for a " slacker," who con-
siders his Saturday match sufficient, and wonders at the end of his
first season why he is only a second team reserve. Practice, and
constant practice, in crosse-handling must be indulged in by the
man who wishes to be of any real use to his side, and lacrosse
elements can be mastered by individual work. Practice by two or
three men is better, but a few minutes' play daily against a wall,
throwing the ball at the wall and catching it, is invaluable. The
ball comes off at strange angles, and gives opportunities for many
varieties of catches. Should the wall contain windows the progress
made in accuracy may be gauged by the decrease in the amount
of the weekly bill from the glazier.
As the novice becomes proficient he should concentrate his
efforts and chalk out a small space at which to aim ; eventually a
single brick will do, and when he hits it three tinies out of four he
will be within measurable distance of becoming as expert as a famous
attack who killed a fly on the wall of a hostelry ; it was the only fly
on the wall at the time, and its remains are reported to be still pre-
served as evidence of deadly shooting powers. If wall practice or
combined work is not possible, no novice should let a day pass
without a few minutes' manipulation of the crosse, even in a room,
getting accustomed to the feel of the ball in the crosse, tossing the
ball, catching it, and soon. The "slacker" can find any number
of excuses for not practising daily, but the enthusiast will make
opportunities which will prove of the utmost value to him and to his
club when Saturdays come round. He may be cheered by remem-
bering that the best players only keep up their proficiency by con-
stant crosse-handling, and that it is in no respect infra dig. to practise
whenever possible— a point which players of other winter games may
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MODERN LACROSSE 327
take to heart, particularly with the example of New Zealand expert-
ness in the elements of Rugby football before them.
The fact that so few schools play lacrosse makes the task of
gaining recruits very difficult, particularly in the South, where we have
only The Leys and St. Dunstan's College. It is to the schools that
the authorities of the game should turn their keenest attention when
they are making efforts to add to the number of clubs playing.
Some men might, in their justifiable enthusiasm for lacrosse, advo-
cate its adoption by schools as their only winter game. I do not go
so far as that, but consider lacrosse an admirable game for the
8. "WBLL BODIBD"— THB FATE OF A DODGER
second half of the winter, following on a term of Rugby, than which
there is no better game to turn out good lacrosse recruits. Nothing
knocks the true spirit of sport so thoroughly into boy or man as
Rugby, and there is a good deal of give and take in lacrosse, when
checking is vigorous and close, in which a Rugby player would
revel, and refrain from yapping if he received a knock.
Some points claimed for lacrosse for boys, and publicly advo-
cated by such authorities as Mr. J. C. Isard, of The Leys, are the
desirability of a change of game after Christmas, when football
interest is on the wane; the advisability of keeping from football
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328 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
injuries in view of athletic sports (prepaxation for which is aided
by the wearing of hght rubber-soled boots instead of heavy football
boots) ; and the more gentle treatment of grounds when lacrosse is
played (in view of the cricket season). These are reasons of practical
utility, and take no note of the fine points of lacrosse as a game
which is full of skill and faster than any other, giving manifest
advantage to boys with their daily facilities for stick-handling and
general fitness as compared with the ordinary week-end sportsman.
9. ladies' lacrosse — POSITION IN CARRYING
However changeable English people may be in their political
opinions, they are very conservative over their games, and the day
is doubtless far distant when lacrosse will attract ;f 1,000 gates in
this country, or its legislators will be compelled to deal with pro-
fessionalism. At present it fortunately remains a purely amateur
pastime ; but Canadian experience, the decent gates in the North,
and occasionally at important matches in the South, show that it
contains every element of popularity. The only drawback is the
small ball, the flight of which is at first difficult to follow ; but the
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MODERN LACROSSE 329
skill in crosse-handling and manoeuvring, and the pace of the game,
make matters very lively for spectators, who if they became more
numerous Avould doubtless be accommodated on raised stands, the
best point of view being slightly above the players.
The pace of the game makes it difficult to give an adequate idea
of lacrosse by snapshots, but I have been fortunate in having access
to a great number, and No. 4 illustrates excellently some points
in my notes. The others were specially taken, and in Nos. 5 to 8
the photographer has succeeded in getting capital results from
good models (three of the Champion team of the South, 1904-5).
No. 5, ** Play," shows the positions immediately on the word
10. LAD1BS PRACTISING THROWING, CHECKING. AND CATCHING
being given, and is not ** faked " in any way — note the position of
the ball. No. 6 shows a tricky attack, with his crosse held tightly
to his body, attempting but failing to dodge round his opposing
defence, and the goalkeeper awaiting the result. No. 7 gives a
variation in which the attack has got past, and flicked an under-
hand shot through just before his crosse is checked ; the goalkeeper
has tried to stop the ball, but failed. No. 8 is a warning to
dodgers. The man on the ground has been smartly body-checked
and fallen ; his opponent is not executing a war-dance for photo-
graphic purposes, but his position is quite natural, and the ball
was not placed where it is, but fell as the holder of it dropped
his crosse.
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J30 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
It would De discourteous in dealing with modern lacrosse, to
omit reference to the ladies, for the lighter and handier crosse
now in use has made the game possible for them, and by omitting
the violent body-check they have developed a game which by
its grace of movement should in the future appeal to them vw
largely. At present ladies' lacrosse is mainly confined to schools
and colleges, and there are many teams now playing in the South,
some of whom show really excellent form, particularly in neat
crosse-handling and accuracy of short passing. As an outdoor
physical exercise for ladies I consider lacrosse to be unequalled;
but this may be pure prejudice. Perhaps, however, a reproduction
of two photographs taken at Mme. Osterberg's Physical Training
College at Dartford Heath may help to prove the contention that
lacrosse is a graceful and healthy game for ladies (Photographs 9
and 10), as it is a fine, fast, vigorous game for men, containing
manifold opportunities for unlimited pace and skill, and for the
perfect combination which makes for the success of all first-class
team games.
II. SAVED
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COUNTRY LIFE IN CANADA ON ^^200 A YEAR
BY '* canadensis"
Mr. Perry's papers on ** Living for Sport on ^f 156 a Year " prompt
me to send you a chapter of my own experience, gleaned in a more
distant field. I have no hesitation in saying that anyone with a
very moderate competence can have a delightful time in Canada
provided he has the qualifying tastes for sport ai^d an outdoor
existence. I would hasten, however, to sound a preliminary note
of warning that a man should carefully weigh his own resources
before he embarks on an unfamiliar method of life, for to one who
for a long period has been accustomed to the regular hours of
business there may be danger in an abrupt change. However,
granted the above income, granted also an inclination for the open
air, a man might do far worse than come out to Canada and
establish himself, as I have done, on a modest little farm.
Here he may find interesting outdoor work all the year round,
a little inexpensive sport, and altogether lead a happier and safer
existence than in being perpetually tossed about in the risky whirl-
pool of what is called business. Should he fancy a paying out-
door occupation without severe manual labour there are cheap
farms, notably in the beautiful Annapolis Valley, a natural apple
orchard its entire length of 100 miles, where if he can set out grafted
saplings and wait a dozen years he can easily clear £1 per fruit tree
each year (augmenting each year after), and easily manage an
orchard of from 200 to 500 or even 1,000 trees.
There may be some to whom the life of the watering-place, be
it cheap or expensive, proves irksome when indulged in for any pro-
tracted period, notwithstanding attractions of golf, cricket, lawn
tennis, and mild field sports ; say, a class of men accustomed to a
more strenuous life, and who enjoy " roughing it " a little. A mem-
ber of such a class, from no fault of his own, may find himself at
middle life thrown out of his line of work with no similar avenue
open. Should he have retained or saved a modest competence, in
some comfortable Canadian farm-house he may find a life not
unsuited to the English temperament.
To borrow a saying of Hookham Frere's, " I love a country
where the Almighty has kept large portions of land in his own
hands." The farm which I occupy is within six miles of a city of
40,000 inhabitants ; yet it is environed with wide tracts of forest and
wastes which are too unproductive for tillage. These are watered by
scores of trout streams and studded with lakes — big and little.
Hence I can, during the season, enjoy good fishing ad lib,, while
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332 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
with the gun I can pick up almost any autumn day three or four
brace of cock and snipe, and a rufifed grouse or two. One can keep
a pair of beagles for hare-hunting, a foxhound for running wild-cat,
a pointer for warm-weather shooting, and a setter for the late fall.
I have also a working horse and a roadster, a couple of cows, a few
hives of bees, and a poultry yard. I grow all my ovm hay, besides
lots of garden stuff, the surplus of which goes to pay my grocer's
bill. My farm cost 3^350. I pay a man and his wife ^^40 a year to
look after me, and they make me exceedingly comfortable. For
ploughing and hay-making I hire extra help. I spend one or two
days out of each week in the city, and can thus look over all the
English periodicals at the club, and keep in touch with my friends,
who often pay me a visit and sometimes profess to envy me. One
intimate friend spends each week-end at the hrm. Out of my ;f 200,
after meeting all expenses I have sufficient left for a little travel each
year.
This is a slight sketch of a manner of life which may suit some
tastes, and which my experience has proved to be delightful.
Farming, gardening, studying, and writing fill up my vacant hours,
so that I can welcome equally foul weather or fair.
There is a great fascination in living so close to nature, in
watching the procession of the seasons. Each has its own peculiar
charm. Even "torpid and taciturn winter" has its keen outdoor
enjoyments: skating on the frozen lakes, snow-shoeing on the
powdery white wastes, sleighing on the highway worn to a slippery
smoothness by the winter's traffic. Winter is the season for felling
trees and filling up the woodyard.
The return of spring, however, is always eagerly looked for.
The first note of its coming is sounded by the wild geese, passing
over high in the air, bound for their breeding grounds in Baffin's Land
or Hudson's Bay. Soon after on some warm evening the drumming
of the breeding snipe is heard over the lonely marshlands ; a wood-
cock is seen feeding at the brookside ; the faint croakings from little
wayside pools tell that the softer airs are reviving the torpid reptile
life : then little green spears are thrust upwards in the russet fields,
and the migrant birds swarm over the bare pastures. Now the
plough is brought out and planting is presently in full swing. All
thoughts of sport are laid aside until seeding time is over. By this
time the trout are once more rn good condition after the glut of the
may-fly ; and excursions to the lakes with little portable canvas
canoes are in order.
The advent of summer brings many tasks on the farm, a cease-
less warfare against the weeds which if let alone would soon destroy
all prospects of a crop ; yet there is room for a few days on a salmon
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I
COUNTRY LIFE IN CANADA ON £200 A YEAR 333
stream, and a picnic party now and then. Delightful is the progress
of the summer season. All the countryside becomes adorned with
purple masses of Rhodora and the crimson plumes of the Kalmias.
The forest glades throw gusts of perfume in the face of the wayfarer.
The Linnea vine, the wild cherry, the budding firs, the " balm of
Gilead " poplars, load the air with their heavy-scented fragrance. Of
all summer tasks the gathering of the hay crop is the most important.
Autumn is a season of prolonged and varied enjoyments. The
pleasures of garden, farm, and wood may be alternated. There is a
loud call to the forest and the fields. Game is at its prime. Shall
it be a few days' snipe-shooting with your trusty old friend, the boon
companion of many outings which lie fair in the memory ? Or shall
it be a plunge into the forest with a native Micmac Indian as your
guide to try for a pair of moose antlers for your study walls ? Or a
search on the hills covered with berry-bearing shrubbery for his
majesty the bear ? Exactly as taste and inclination may dictate.
After the Canadian autumn then comes the marvellous '* Indian
summer '* — a brief term of truce to the encroachments of the colds
of winter.
The wheel of the seasons has now come full circle. We are
back again to the time of the blazing log-fire, and the long quiet
evenings over a book. The wild flurry of the winter drift against the
pane is little heeded, while the sputtering logs on the ample hearth
are no bad substitute for the gaudy sunshine of summer.
I have briefly tried to outline the attractions of a mode of life —
v^hich may appeal to some men, certainly not to all — within the
reach of very moderate means. Many men in America who devote
their lives to literary effort have chosen a similar method. I find
it a beautiful and pleasant existence, combining as it does ample
opportunities for reading, sport, and outdoor occupation in farming
and gardening.
There is a wholesome blend of work and play. Undoubtedly
there exists in Canada some subtle charm which strongly attracts
the old-country man. It appeals to many as the most attractive of
all the Colonies. India, **the brightest jewel in the Imperial
Crown," is seldom regarded as a permanent home. South Africa is
a good place to make money in to bring home to spend. Australia
and New Zealand are too remote in the estimation of many, and
generally speaking the climate is too arid. Canada is the nearest
Colony ; its climate and natural features most nearly resemble those
of Britain. Its huge forests, great lakes, and noble rivers, its rolling
prairies and majestic mountains, lend it a flavour of romance. Most
Englishmen when they know it well love it well.
HO. cxxviii. VOL. XXII.— iVar^ 1906 Z
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WILD TURKEYS IN SOUTH AUSTRALIA
BY COLLINGWOOD INGRAM
Im their vernacular the Australians have adopted a very loose
nomenclature for the natural objects which surround them. Asa
general rule the names have originated from a vague outward
resemblance to things that were once familiar to their forefathers
in the " old country/' as they still call England. We have learnt
to believe that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but
occasions may arise wiiere it is altogether undesirable, and this is
certainly so with regard to terminology. The duplicity of a name
will almost invariably be misleading. In this way the Australian
Bustard {Eiipodotis australis) will for all time be wrongly known as
the Wild Turkey, and it would be futile therefore to write of the
bird by any other appellation.
Rather larger than the species that once inhabited the British
Islands, its habits somewhat resemble those of the Great Bustard
{Otis tarda) y and need not be referred to here in detail. With the
increase and spread of civilisation, like their European cousins
they are rapidly reducing in numbers, and it is to be feared at no
dist.'int date they will become entirely extinct in the populated
districts. I have beert informed that this sudden diminution is not
wholly due to the persecution of sportsmen, although doubtless
they may be credited with a share in the business. Upon a certain
station that came especially under my notice in South Australia their
sudden scarcity was found to be contemporaneous with the poisoning
of rabbits by a specially prepared pollard, and the eating of this
food may possibly be taken as the principal cause of their fete.
Perhaps another factor may be the comparatively recent intro-
duction of foxes into the country.
Being partially migratory, under certain conditions the wild
turkey moves down towards the coast and feeds by the. lower
reaches of the River Murray and its delta lakes, where it Is attracted
by the greener grass of the less dry climate.
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WILD TURKEYS IN SOUTH AUSTRALIA 335
It was on the shore of one of these lakes that I had my first
experience of Australian shooting. With its flat and open features
this district put me much in mind of a typical landscape in Argen-
tina, and oddly enough this peculiar comparison was further
intensified by a superficial resemblance between many of the birds ,-
the black-breasted plovers had a cry very similar to that of the
ubiquitous teru-terus of the River Plate; the bustards flew with a
slow beat of pinion like the crested screamers ; and the ducks plied
to and fro across the water in the mariner of the restless mobs that
fly between the shallow lagunas of the far-away pampas.
The morning of our first expedition, we started, early after
WOODS POINT, RIVER MURRAY
breakfast. The guns left the sheep-station in a small buggy and
proceeded slowly in the wake of two beaters, who were riding upon
horses, scouting a little way in advance. To a stranger it appears
curious that a couple of men should be sufficient to do what is
necessary to secure sport ; but I understand that their intimate
knowledge of the country and the flight of the birds renders them
nearly always successful in driving the turkeys over a required point.
With respect to this work, one man in particular — a long, rufous-
haired Colonial — possessed almost a genius, and locally it was said
that he could manage the bustards as easily as he could a flock
of sheep.
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336 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
We travelled several miles before we came to the most frequented
ground, and then three birds were seen and marked down by the
two outriders. A halt was consequently called, and after some
discussion a definite understanding was finally arrived at and we
went our several ways. The first beat was not productive, but it
*2:ained one important object in driving the birds to a favoured head-
land which at this point projected into the lake. With renewed
care to avoid mistakes a second drive was arranged, and we again
took up our positions in the form of a wide semi-circle. We were
placed equidistant from one another in what is colloquially known
as a "hide.'' Some of these '* hides '' were natural, but others
had to be hurriedly erected by gathering together either lumps ot
WAITING FOR THE TURKBYS
grass or loose bunches of samphire, and building them up in the
shape of a low butt. Personally, upon this occasion I took my
place behind a dead and partially dislimbed she-oak, where, without
any shelter, I had to remain crouching for some time in the cold
bite of the wind. In the chill of that breeze there was ever)'
prospect of the long-wished-for rain, and indeed soon it sputtered
down upon us as cold as a moorland shower.
But I had not to wait very long, for soon the turkeys began to
rise from the plain-land in front. First one and then another
mounted into the air, until seventeen in all came flapping slowly m
the direction of the ambushed guns. Those who have been fortunate
enough to participate in a grouse, or even a partridge, drive, in a
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WILD TURKEYS IN SOUTH AUSTRALIA 337
sense can appreciate the glow of expectancy that accompanied the
approach of these huge birds. Beating up with a side wind, their
flight proved to be very erratic, and several broke away wide of the
guns along the shore of the lake. The first impression that they
were moving low, and not very swiftly, soon proved incorrect, for as
they came nearer it became evident that they were really -flyirtg"
higher than their custom, and at a considerable speed. As they
passed overhead, therefore, making an awkward lee-way with the
wind, it was not surprising that our shots had little effect upon them ;
and although we could distinctly hear the lead rattle against their
feathers, only one fell to the ground, while the others went on without
much apparent discomfort. The game was now so scattered over
the country that only one other drive could be organised, which
resulted in a single addition to our bag, but later another wounded
bird was picked up, making in all a total of three.
Although this ended our day's sport with the Australian Bustard,
several hours of light still remained, so it was decided to use them
along the lake-side in pursuit of duck, and despite their cunning we
succeeded in taking a few from the hundreds that were feeding upon
the water.
The flesh of the wild turkey is very excellent eating, and the
bird's reputation as a comestible is by no means undeserved*
AFTER DUCK
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BOOKS ON SPORT
School and Sport. By Tom Collins. London : Elliot Stock.
1906.
Mr. Collins — grandson and great-grandson of old members for
Warwick — was lately head master of Newport (Salop) School, and
we should imagine that the boys who found themselves in his charge
were lucky. A man's character may often be judged correctly from
his writing, especia^lly when it takes the form of an autobiography,
and readers cannot well fail to arrive at the conclusion that the
author is a good sportsman and a good fellow, the consequence being
that he has produced a remarkably cheery and interesting book.
Mr. Collins was beaten for an open scholarship at Trinity Hall
by the present Lord Justice Romer, afterwards, however, being suc-
cessful at Christ's, where he captained the cricket eleven. His work
began at King Edward's School, Birmingham, he having been elected
classical master at the age of twenty-two But it is rather the latter
half of his title, sport, that will appeal to readers, and indeed this
subject occupies the greater part of the volume, shooting and fishing
particularly, though he has something to say about other things,
including billiards, which used to be regarded as a discreditable
game, and was once forbidden at the University. Mr. Collins, how-
ever, played, and got into the final for the *' silver cue."
Before applying for his appointment the authtr visited Norway,
and had excellent sport there. He and his friends took out three
dogs who were fed exclusively on game, which it need scarcely be
said many dogs will not touch. *' Old Don, the bulldog pointer,
was not averse from grouse— even' when uncooked. He was a
wonderfully good dog in many wafys," the author says, but in one
respect, which he goes on to describe, he was a very bad dog? " 1
have seen him get into a lot of joung blackgame and point them
one after another steady as a rock while your eye was on him.
When he thought" you were not looking I have seen him dash in,
seize and bolt a young blackcock, feathers and all, almost before
you could wink your eye." By the way, you could not easily wink
anything else? ** When you came up tq him he would look as
innocent as a newborn babe." Surely a very bad dog indeed !
Incidentally Mr. Collins introduces a ^ittle disquisition on
Bridge, the drawback to which he considers is that you are so abso-
lutely in the hands of your partner. The writer is artful, for he
makes the statement that in his time at Birmingham, 1863, there
was no golf an excuse for telling some golf slories. One is of
the rector who was shocked to find his golf-playing curate using goH
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BOOKS ON SPORT 339
language. The incumbent suggested that whenever the culprit so
far forgot himself as to say a bad word he should put a pebble in his
p>ocket, and one day, after a long turn at the Hnks, he met the young
man with his coat bulging out on both sides. The rector shook his
head in reproof, and said it was '* very, very bad," to which the
ever-truthful curate replied that these were only the "dash its!'*
and ** hang its ! " *' There is a wagon-load of ' damns ! * coming up
the road," he confessed.
Mr. Collins does not seem to have missed many opportunities
of a day's shooting, and has naturally met with companions of vary-
ing degrees of skill. Once he asked a sporting parson how the
young son of a neighbouring baronet got on. His reverence re-
plied, ** Oh, only middling. The first day he was out he had ninety-
five shots and hit his father, his uncle, and one bird." The author
himself made a better average and a less mixed bag. He was out
one day when ** suddenly six partridges rose on the other side of a
gate and flew over two tall trees. I fired one shot just when they
were at the top, and to my astonishment, as I was waiting to get in
the second barrel, the whole six fell dead at the bottom of the tree.
You might have covered them with a tablecloth. I at first thought
I was responsible for the whole six, but afterwards found that
Christopher Burne had fired simultaneously with myself." In any
case it was an average of three a barrel.
For many years Mr. Collins had 1,000 acres of rough shooting
close to Newport. He had no keeper, yet in one year he killed
426 partridges, 90 wild pheasants, 40 hares, and about 70 rabbits.
Of course he Hkes to see dogs work — most people do; but as to
walking up and driving, he declares that he ** would rather kill three
brace of fast-flying driven birds than double the number by walking
them up." Years ago 6d. an acre used to be considered a fair price
for partridge-shooting; many readers will wish it were so now, but
the increase is no doubt natural. Mr. CoUins writes pleasantly,
though we are surprised to find a head master saying '* different to."
Poultry Farming : Some Facts and Some Conclusions.
By *' Home Counties." London : John Murray. 1906.
"It is difficult to think of any subject upon which more nonsense
has been talked and written than poultry keeping." So the author
begins by saying, and he goes on to discuss the question in all its
branches with evident knowledge and experience. No less a sum
than £7,000,000 per annum is paid for imported eggs, and another
- ttrillion for dead poultry. Cannot this be kept in the United
Kingdom for the profit of poultry farmers ? That is the point.
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340 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
" Home Counties " does not appear to be particularly sanguine ot
great results. At present the patronage of poultry keeping by agri-
cultural societies' shows is largely bestowed in the wrong way, he
says, and most of the poultry shows have little relation to com-
mercial poultry keeping. It is far frqm being everybody's business.
What it all comes to is that under favourable conditions certain
people who possess special advantages may make poultry yield a
profit, but buckets of cold water are thrown on the uninstructed
enthusiast.
The American Sportsman's Library: Rowing and Track Ath-
letics. *' Rowing," by Samuel Crowther ; ** Track Athletics,"
by Arthur Ruhl. New York and London : Macmillan. 1905.
It is difficult to understand why interest in rowing and sculling
should have decreased so markedly of late years, but there can be
no doubt about the fact. The names of Chambers, Kelley, Reofortb,
and others used to be familiar to everybody, and a match between
Thames and Tyne created general excitement. Nowadays, how
many readers can name the champion sculler ? At the University
Boat-race season papers do contain accounts of the spins done by
the crews and criticisms of individuals, Henley is an attraction to
many, and local regattas draw their crowds. But interest in the
sport of boat-racing has waned, and though this book is well done
by a competent hand, we doubt whether it will appeal to a large
class, particularly as it of course deals for the most part with
Transatlantic exponents of rowing and athletics. The frontispiece,
indeed, is of a Diamond Sculls winner, E. H. Ten Eyck, who
carried off the trophy in 1897, but the circumstances were not
altogether agreeable. Ten Eyck, described as ** perhaps the fastest
amateur who has ever handled a scull," was the son of a profes-
sional, his amateur status was not admitted, and in 1898 his entr)'
was refused.
It might have been supposed that the introduction of the sliding
seat would have given a fresh impetus to rowing, though it can
hardly be said to have done so. On this subject the author has
some well-considered remarks. On fixed seats English and
Americans rowed in much the same way, the British only having
more swing. When the slide was introduced the forms diverged.
The American stroke had the slide for a basis, the English retained
the swing which the others steadily cut down. At Henley the
Americans have, as a rule, fared badly, but it is urged that their
crews have usually met Leander, which is undoubtedly strong.
As for athletics, how excellent many Americans are has been
demonstrated on both sides of the Atlantic.
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BOOKS ON SPORT 341
Fate's Intruder. By Frank Savile and Alfred E. T. Watson.
London : Heinemann. igo6.
This is a novel containing sporting incidents which cannot be
reviewed in these pages, seeing that authors are the editor of the
magazine and a frequent contributor. The bare mention of the
publication must suffice.
13ADMINTON Library : Billiards. New Edition. London : Long-
mans, Green & Co. 1906.
A new edition of the Badminton Billiards book has just been
issued, in accordance with the publishers' practice of keeping the
books as much as possible up to date; and it may be added that a
new edition of ** Motoring " is nearly ready, the latter subject
requiring constant attention, for the industry moves with speed.
A Farmer's Year. By H. Rider Haggard. London : Longmans,
Green & Co. 1906.
This is a re-issue of the famous novelist's labour of love, the
original of which we reviewed in due course. It appeals forcibly
to every dweller in the country, we can scarcely say whether more
so to the person who knows little of the march of the seasons, what
flowers, crops, etc., to look for, or to the practical agriculturist, who
will be interested to note how his own experiences agree with the
author's.
Who's Who. London : A. and C. Black. 1906.
What can be said of *' Who's Who " ? It would be useless to
repeat that it is indispensable, for of this everybody is aware. It
could scarcely be better done, and the new volume, we may add,
extends to 1,878 pages.
Who's Who Year Book. (Same Publishers.)
This is in a measure a convenient summary of ** Who's Who,"
but it is much more than that, and we cannot imagine the man who
lives in the world and does not constantly find it more than a
convenience.
The Writers' and Artists' Year Book, 1906.
(Same Publishers.)
This is — need it be said ? — a directory for writers, artists, and
photographers, and is of special value to the author or draughtsman
>vho has MS. or pictures to dispose of and is in doubt where they
-^vill have the best chance of acceptance.
HO. cxxviir. VOL. xxu.—March 1906 A A
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BADMINTON NOTA BENE
So far as we know this is absolutely a new idea — a sporting
tour through India by automobile. Mr. P. E. Narraway is respon-
sible for the notion, and has negotiated with the Officers' Employ-
ment Bureau, 133, Jermyn Street, London, S.W., to assist in
carrying out the scheme. The latter have made all arrangements,
which especially include tiger and big game shooting, pig-sticking,
etc. A powerful car has been built with every convenience, also
a second for servants and luggage. The route has been carefully
mapped out for nearly the whole of Southern India, all places of
interest being visited. A retired army officer who knows the ropes
is to be in charge. The tour will start from Poona, November ist,
and will extend from three to six months.
4t 4t ♦ ♦ ♦
To not a few ears the sound of a hunting horn is the pleasantest
of music, and though the local saddler may have such instruments
in stock, the chances are that they are not very satisfactory speci-
mens of the article. To Masters and huntsmen in search of a horn
the Stainer Manufacturing Company, of 92, St. Martin's Lane,
Charing Cross, may be recommended. They are not, indeed,
particularly specialists in these horns, all sorts of other instruments
being on sale, as also gramophones, from 50s. to whatever price the
purchaser chooses to give.
* * ♦ ♦ ♦
On other pages in this number is a description of how a man
with a taste for sport may lead a pleasurable existence in Canada
on an almost microscopic income. Should he prefer California he
can, with fair average luck, make an income on an Orange Orchard.
It is declared that no better start in life can be given to a young
man, and as for sport, at West Riverside, Los Angelos, there is
excellent shooting, fishing of the very best, besides polo, golf, and
lawn-tennis clubs. Full particulars of this fascinating country may
be obtained at the California Real Estate Agency and Inquir>'
Bureau, 21, Copthall Avenue, E.C.
*****
Whether myopia — short-sightedness — is curable has long been
a subject of argument. M. Dion, of the Ophthalmic Institute,
191, Rue de TUniversit^, Paris, asserts that there is no doubt. At
most one per cent, of cases treated by him are failures, and if the
cure be not complete, considerable improvement is guaranteed.
Numerous testimonials from the most authentic sources bear unmis-
takably testimony to the contention, and at present M. Dion may
be consulted at 94, Queen's Road, Bayswater.
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A PRIZE COMPETITION
The Proprietors of the Badminton Magazine offer a prize or prizes
to the value of Ten Guineas each month for the best original photo-
graph or photographs sent in representing any sporting subject.
Competitors may also send any photographs they have by them on
two conditions : that they have been taken by the sender, and that
they have never been previously published. A few lines explaining
when and where the photographs were taken should accompany
each subject. Residents in the country who have access to shooting-
parties, or who chance to be in the neighbourhood when hounds are
running, will doubtless find interesting subjects ; these will also be
provided at football or cricket matches, and wherever golf, cycling,
fishing, skating, polo, or athletics are practised. Racing and steeple-
chasing, including Hunt Meetings and Point-to-point contests,
should also supply excellent material. Photographs of Public School
interest will be specially welcome.
The size of the prints, the number of subjects sent, the date of
sending, the method of toning, printing, and mounting, are all
matters left entirely to the competitors.
The Proprietors are unable to return any rejected matter
except under special circumstances, and they reserve the right of
using anything of interest that may be sent in, even if it should not
receive a prize. They also reserve to themselves the copyright in
all photographs which shall receive a prize, and it is understood that
all photographs sent are offered on this condition.
The result of the March competition will be announced in the
May issue.
THE JANUARY COMPETITION
The Prize in the January competition has been divided among
the following competitors : — Mr. G. W. Whitmore, Apethorpe,
Wansford, Northamptonshire; Mr. F. H. Hutton, Lincoln; Major
G. F. Mockler, 43rd Light Infantry, Deolali, Bombay Presidency;
Mr. Philip Haswell, The School House, Dunstable; Mr. A. Abrahams,
Emmanuel College, Cambridge; Mr. J. P. Tyrrell, Maryborough,
Queen's County; Mr. Robert W. Hillcoat, H.M. Transport Plassy ;
Sergeant A. V. Cable, Royal Engineers, Gibraltar; Mr. G. Rom-
denne, Brussels; and Mrs. G. B. B. Commeline, Fyzabad, U.P.,
India.
A A 2
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344 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
WVNNSTAY HUNT POINT-TO-POINT — THB OPEN WATER JUMP IN THE FARMER' ' RACE
Photograph by Mr. G. W. Whitmore, Apethorpe, Wans/ord, Northamptont ire
A SOUTHERN FOUR-IN-HAND
Photograph by Mr. Geo. B. Kemp, Watertown, New York
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PRIZE COMPETITION 345
A THROW OUT FROM THE TOUCH LINK — CHELTENHAM COLLEGE V. BLACKHEATH
ON THE COLLEGE GROUND
Photograph by Mr. //. G. Swiney, Sand ford Lawn, Cheltenham
f
THE gUANTOCK STAGHOUNDS
Photograph by Mr. F, H. Hutton, Lincoln
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346 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
HUNTERS CROSSING A FERRY IN THE BEDALB COUNTRY
Photograph by Mrs. L. B. Morris, Thornton-in-Craven, Leeds
THE M.C.C. TEAM PRACTISING SLIP CATCHING ON THE " KINFAUNS CASTLE '
Photograph by Captain J. C. Har^.cy, Hastings
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PRIZE COMPETITION
347
H
TIGER-SHOOTING IN THB KHERI TKRAI, ODDH, U.P.
Photograph by Major G. F. Mockler, 43rd Light Infantry, Dcolali, Bombay Presidency
WATER LEAP-FRO'" IN THE DUNSTABLE SCHOOL BATHS
Photograph by Mr. Philip Hasivell, The School House, Dunstable
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348 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
off!
Photograph by Mr. A. Abrahams, Emmanuel College, Cambridge
TAME RED-DEER CALF AND BORZOI
Photograph by Miss M. Maclean, Ardgour, N.B.
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PRIZE COMPETITION 349
THE RACK FOR THE GRAND MILITARY, PUNCHKSTOWN, I905
Photograph by Mr, J. P. Tyrrell, Maryhorvufrh, Queen's Ccunty
A MANIPURI POLO PLAYER
Photograph by Major A. B. Harvey, 16th Rajputs, Manipur, Assam, India
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350 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
KILDARE HUNT POINT-TO-POINT, I905 — JUMPING THR WALL ON TO THE ROAD
Phctograph hy Mr. J. P. Tyrrell, Maryborough, Queen^s County
MEET OF THE CATTISTOCK HUNT
Photograph by Miss H. Pope, South Court, Dorchester
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PRIZE COMPETITION 351
B^NDY PLAYING AT ST. MORITZ
Photograph by Lady Joan Verney, Rutland Gardens, S, IV.
pillow fighting on a greasy pole over a sailcloth, h.m. transport
"plassy" sports
Photograph by Mr. Robert W. Hillcoat, H.M. Transport '*PIa5sy"
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352 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
A LADIES RACE AT ALMORIAMA, SPAIN
Photograph by Sergeant A. V Cable, Royal Engineers, Gibraltar
IMPALA SHOT NEAR NAIROBI
Shot and Photograph taken by Mr. R. P. Lewis, Lieutenant 1st King's
Afiican Ri^es, Nairobi, East Africa
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PRIZE COMPETITION 353
THE GUIDES PAPER HUNT
Photograph by Mr. G. Romdenne, Brussels
MEET OP H.M.S. "BRITANNIA" BEAGLES. DARTMOUTH, AT WADDETON COURT
MASTER, COMMANDER THE HON. HUBERT G. BRAND, R.N.
Photograph by Mr. Carslake Winter-Wood, Ken wick, Paignton, South Devon
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GONE ! ! !
Photograph }hy Mrs. G. B. B. Commeline, Fyzabad, C/.P„ India
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V
[
POLEBROOR, THB RESIDENCE OF CAPTAIN HOPE-JOHNSTONE
The Badminton Magazine
SPORTSMEN OF MARK
VI.— CAPTAIN WENTWORTH HOPE-JOHNSTONE
BY ALFRED E. T. WATSON
The seventies and eighties were perhaps the palmy days of the
soldier-jockey, and conspicuous among those who distinguished
themselves at that epoch was the subject of the present sketch.
Wentworth Hope-Johnstone comes of a sporting family. His father
and grandfather figured in the saddle before him, so that race-riding
was in the blood, and it is natural that the friends of the family
should have been sportsmen likewise. When a boy young Hope-
Johnstone used to stay for weeks at a time at Knockhill, Dumfries-
shire, with old Mr. Sharpe of Hoddon, one of the best-known men
in his generation ; and the place was a paradise to the lad, being
thronged with racehorses, mares and foals, greyhounds, piebald
sheep, fancy dogs and cats, curious birds, and endless objects of
interest. There he used to " do " a horse and ride work, studying
NO. czzix. VOL xniu- April 1906 B B
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356 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
indeed the elements of the art of which he was to become a master.
It was at Knockhill that Christopher Sly was bred, a winner of
several races, including the Gold Vase at Ascot in 1871. Christopher
Sly was an example of the fact that no one knows how a yearling
will turn out. He was a shapeless and ungainly little creature, so
much so that he was run in an old orchard so as to be out of sight,
and there he had a habit of standing for hours together in the same
place, under the branches of an old tree, which got him the name
among the lads of '* Crabtree Jock." Mr. Sharpe had a mare called
Bayleaf, which he once sent to Perth to run in a Hunters' Flat
Race. Tom Spence was to have ridden, but did not turn up ; so a
local sportsman,- who was described as a " regardless rider," had the
mount, and, finishing with desperate energy, won a distance. Bob
Menzies, Mr. Sharpens trainer, a very important person who fancied
himself greatly, swaggered up to lead the mare in, not at all pleased
that she had been so thoroughly shown up. " Confound you, sir,"
he said, ** what was the good of that ? You won a hundred yards
too far ! " ** Did I ? " the affronted jockey replied, for he had not
expected anything but a compliment on his horsemanship. ** And
if Vd had a bigger whip I'd have won a hundred yards further!"
In was in 1866 that Mr. Hope-Johnstone made his first appear-
ance in the saddle, his figures for the year being ** i mount, 0 win,"
and this was precisely repeated two years later. During the inter-
mediate year he never rode, so that he could not have improved on
the minus average. Wigton, in Cumberland, was one of the first
meetings he ever attended. A horse called Soda-water, ridden by a
horse-breaker and occasional jockey named Gambles, came down at
the brook, giving his rider a very bad fall. Hope-Johnstone was just
by the fence, as was the owner, to whom he said, " I'm afraid
your jockey is very badly hurt ? " *' Puir lad ! I doot he'll never
speak nae mair; will thee ride huss i' the Consolation ? "was the
reply. Business was business whatever might happen to the luck-
less Gambles.
Young Wentworth Johnstone's first mount, however, was in
a flat race at Hawick. He had not been prepared to ride, and
figured in the saddle in boots and breeches borrowed from an
ostler who happened to be handy and to own fairly presentable
equipments, and it was rather for the fun of riding than the hope of
winning that he accepted the mount, as the race was known to be a
practical certainty for an animal named Stiff — if only he got off, that
is to say : an important proviso, as he was an extremely difficult
horse at the post, and if there were any delay was tolerably certain
to bolt off the common where the course was laid out into the
town. While dressing, a loud altercation in the next room was over-
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CAPTAIN WBNTWORTH HOPB-JOHNSTONB
B B 2
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358 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
heard. ** I tell thee thou knaws naething aboot it 1" a voice said.
** Ma brither is starter, and there will be a fause start, tae setaff
that auld beggar Stiif." With a clever jockey called Noble on his
back, however, Stiff got off and won by the length of a street, so
that the starter's brother and his friends, who had fancied that they
** knew something,*' were done.
Whether Hope-Johnstone's performance at this time led any-
one to believe that he would twice head the list of gentlemen
riders is not on record, but at any rate his pluck was undoubted.
His next ride was at Windsor on a wild pulling animal named
Bandoline. In the first race on the card, ridden by a jockey named
Ablett, the horse came to grief, and hurt his jockey rather badly.
Bandoline was in another race later in the day, and the owner
wanted to find a rider for him ; but the professionals knew well
what sort of beast he was, and those who were not engaged all
declared that they had to catch an early train, which would render
it quite impossible for them to accept the offer. Wentworth's uncle,
Davy Hope-Johnstone, hearing of the dilemma, and knowing how
keen his nephew was, suggested that he might do, assuring the
owner that at any rate he would not tumble off. " Wenty," as he
was, and is, called by a multitude of friends, promptly accepted,
though he had not come prepared to ride, and no friendly ostler
being at the time available, he got up in check trousers, set off by an
orthodox green jacket and black cap. After jumping the brook the
field in those days had to turn sharp to the left. Wenty was on the
inside, and had so much way on that he could not get round, con-
sequently going himself, and taking Reginald Herbert on Comberton,
over the chains and in among the carriages. The author of the
mischief escaped a fall ; his victim was not equally fortunate, though
he was up again so quickly that getting back into the course he won
the race, afterwards accepting the aggressor's humble apK)logies in
the kindest and most genial spirit, rightly attributing the mischief to
a combination of zeal and ignorance which might be forgiven in an
over-anxious and energetic young amateur.
About this time Hope-Johnstone joined the 7th Hussars, then
about the ** horse-ridingest " regiment in the service. In 1873, for
instance, out of sixteen runners for the Grand Military Gold Cup, no
fewer than five were ridden by officers of the Seventh : '* Baby,"
now General, McCalmont,JohnDaye Backer, Lord Marcus Beresford,
W. B. Morris, and Wentworth ; and it may also be noted that the
Seventh has supplied the winner of the Gold Cup on as many as
six occasions.
" Wenty" learned riding in a roughish school, not being in the
least particular what he was put on so long cis he could "have a go."
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CAPTAIN WENTWORTH HOPE-JOHNSTONE 359
For Teddy Woodland he frequently performed at the meetings
round about London, Kingsbury, West Drayton, Eltham, etc. At
Kingsbury one afternoon, after riding several of Woodland's horses,
he had a bad fall, being for a time quite knocked out. He recovered
consciousness on a form in the dressing-room, and while pulling
himself together, and trying to realise where he was and to remem-
ber what had happened, Woodland roused him with a shake, handed
him a big bumper of vinegar and water, merely remarking, " Look
sharp. Captain, please ! I've got another for you in the next race! "
Too dazed to argue, he was taken to the weighing-room, and put up
A PRIZB WINNER
on an animal who he just possessed energy to observe had his head
wrapped up in a blanket in order that he might not see the race-
course surroundings, for which he entertained a rooted repugnance.
He had, of course, to be led to the post, but when the flag fell,
swung round and disappeared in the direction of Harrow. At Croy-
don, too, a great place in those days, " Wenty '* was constantly
up ; once on a horse of the late Sir John Astley*s, who was always
willing to give a young horseman a chance. *' Can he jump? "
Wenty asked, as he was about to get up. ** Jump ? Why, of course
he can! *' replied the dear old ** Mate '* ; " he jumped right over the
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36o THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
rails into the ring at Chester ! " This may have been evidence of a
certain capacity, but was nevertheless not altogether encouraging.
By 1873 Captain Hope-Johnstone had come to be recognisedas
one of the leading lights among players of the game, and he easily
won the Grand Military Gold Cup on a horse called Revirescat;
repeating the success, it may here be observed, on Lady Sneerwellin
1875 and on Earl Marshal in 1876 ; whilst his brother-in-law, the
lamented Captain W. B. Morris, another of the very best of good
fellows, kept up the sequence in 1877 and 1878, so that the regiment
did decidedly well ! Revirescat was rather fancied for the National of
this year, but it would have taken a great horse to beat Disturbance,
one of the best 'chasers that ever lived, in the estimation of good
judges. Such is the fortune of war that Captain Hope-Johnstone
never chanced to win, or even to get in the first three for, a Liver-
pool, though he has won a number of races over the course— the
Valentine Steeplechase twice, for instance, on Lucy and Champion.
After coming to grief there and hurting himself rather badly on one
occasion, he declared that he would ** sooner fall at Liverpool than
win a race anywhere else,'* so fond was he of the big Aintree fences.
He indirectly had a hand, moreover, in a National victory. One day he
had a ride and won a race on Oldjoe, and meeting our friend Mr. Arthur
Johnstone-Douglas afterwards, he observed to him that he thought
Old Joe was the best horse he had ever ridden, ** though perhaps," he
modestly added, ** I've never been on a good one." His opinion,
however, was enough to induce Mr. Johnstone-Douglas to buy the
horse, with which, as the reader is doubtless aware, he carried off the
great race in 1866, after creating a desperate scare, for three da)'S
before the contest he had a wire from his trainer telling him that
the horse was dead lame and could not possibly start. He came
from Carlisle, where he was trained, with his leg in a bucket, and
happily got right in time. If I remember rightly what Mr. John-
stone-Douglas told me, the mare had got a great nail in his 1^, the
result of hitting a rail which a carpenter had clumsily knocked
together after a break.
A certain proportion of falls is the inevitable lot of every steeple-
chase rider ; and though Captain Hope-Johnstone has been fortunate
in escaping fractures, he naturally had some ugly accidents. One
of these was at Croydon, where a nasty scrimmage at a hurdle
occurred, with the result that he was knocked over in front of a big
field which came pounding along and passed over him, leaving him
flat on the ground; indeed, he did not recover his consciousness for
many hours. "I'm afraid someone jumped on him," a sympa-
thetic observer remarked as just after the race he was carried into
the gentlemen's dressing-room. " Yes, I'm afraid I did — for one," a
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CAPTAIN WENTWORTH HOPE-JOHNSTONE 361
friend who had ridden in the race candidly answered. Within a
week, however, he was eagerly at it again. There was a meeting at
Kingsbury, and an owner had two horses in one of the races, Charlie
and Repulse. Captain Hope-Johnstone, though determined not to
miss a ride, felt that he could not do justice to his mount. He sug-
gested, therefore, that he should ride the worse of the pair. Repulse ;
for the owner, properly estimating his own capacity in the saddle
and likewise that of his friend, had been willing to give him the
mount on the probable winner. He declared to win with Charlie,
and would perhaps have done so, but the late Major Dalbiac (** The
Treasure") on a horse called Awalton came up not far from home and
A SUMMER RESORT
raced so hard against Charlie that the pair ran themselves out of it,
leaving Repulse to drop down at the finish and just get home. The
race was called ** The Upper Ten Steeplechase," and the mob,
quite convinced that the business had been arranged — they are
usually ready to believe that every other race is a ** ramp " — became
derisive and shouted out inquiries as to whether ** that was the way
the Upper Ten did it ? "
In 1880 his present Majesty the King ran a horse for the first time,
a big brown animal called Leonidas, and Captain Hope-Johnstone
vvas honoured with an invitation to ride. Carrying the Royal
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362 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
colours, hitherto never displayed by their present owner, the horse
won comfortably, so that the subject of this sketch has the honour
of having won the first race His Majesty ever secured.
Rather earlier than this, in 1877, in what was called the Royal
Hunt Steeplechase, at Sandown, a rather quaint scene was enacted
in which Captain Hope-Johnstone took part. There were three
starters for the race : Roundhead, ridden by Lord Marcus Beresford;
Early Dawn, Mr. Lee Barber up; and Little Fawn, on whom
Mr. C. Thirlwell started. When they had gone a short distance Little
Fawn fell, giving his jockey a baddish shattering, and at any rate
incapacitating him for the day. At the next fence the other two
EXTREMES MEET
refused persistently, and it occurred to Captain Hope-Johnstone that
Little Fawn might win after all if she had someone on her back;
so, running to her, for she had been secured, he jumped on. Inci-
dentally he found that there was no off-side stirrup, and that the
bridle was over the mare's ear; but these were details, and riding at
the fence where the other two were refusing he somehow or other got
safely over. At the next jump, however, she would not have it.
Fred Archer happened to be standing close by, with a beautiful gold-
headed cane which some admirer had presented to him for winning
a race, and as Little Fawn's jockey had neither whip nor spurs
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CAPTAIN WENTWORTH HOPE.JOHNSTO>X :E ^63
Archer kindly handed him the trophy as a substitute. It "was not
the least adapted for the purpose, and splintered to pieces a.t: the first
stroke, but it had the effect of urging the mare to an effort. She
went for the jump, landed on her head, the saddle swung round
under her, the bridle came off, and the rider's gallant attempt was
defeated. He consoled himself, however, by winning the next race,
the Priory Steeplechase, on Tom Moody, beating Mr. Garrett
BNTRANCB TO THB CASTLE
Moore and Mr. Arthur Yates. For the lattter, and no doubt for the
former also for the matter of that. Captain Hope-Johnstone had a
w^arm admiration. He was always a believer in getting off and as a
rule going to the front and staying there, the idea being that if you
made a mistake you seemed to have more chance of getting right
again ; and Mr. Arthur Yates was a great exponent of this system.
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364 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
The way he would rush down a hill, dart round a corner, and race
over a drop, used to fill spectators with admiration and awe ; and
many of the gallant little band who studied and practised the art of
race-riding at Bishop's Sutton adopted the same method. I well
remember one of them, Captain Robert Sandeman, riding an old horse
called Johnny Longtail at Sandown, on a very frosty day, when it
had seemed impossible that there could be any racing, so bad was
the condition of the course. As they went up the hill past the
stands, one of the jockeys observed that it was dangerously slippery
on the descent after the turn; and Captain Sandeman, hearing
this, took Johnny Longtail by the head and dashed him down as
hard as he could go. He slipped and slithered and looked extremely
like coming to the utterest grief, but gained such a long lead whilst
the others were cautiously steadying down the descent that he won
his race comfortably. It may be casually mentioned that Captain
Sandeman had been invalided home after a bad fall in India, with
the doctors' assurance that he would never be able to get on a horse
again ; but as regards this it appears that the doctors were not quite
correct.
Jem Adams was a great performer at this time, and an undaunted
follower of Arthur Yates's method ; he had a ready tongue moreover.
The Clerk of the Scales at Warwick one day was the son of a well-
known St. James's Street saddler. Jem got into the scales before his
cap and jacket were brought. ** What are your colours ?" he was
asked. Jem didn't hear, and the official repeated the question in a
very rough and authoritative voice, which annoyed Jem. ** My
colours? " he answered, "I don't know; but you ought, for you
made 'em ! "
A curious incident happened in a steeplechase about this time.
Captain Hope-Johnstone was winning, when something dashed up,
went the wrong side of a post, and thereby gained such an advan-
tage that he was never caught. An objection was a matter of
course. ** You went the wrong side of a post, you know," Captain
Hope-Johnstone remarked to him as he was about to get into the
scales. *' Oh, no, I didn't," the other replied, took his seat in the
chair, and immediately fell forward dead.
A good deal of Captain Hope-Johnstone 's riding has been done
in Ireland, where he has won many races over many courses ; and
he retains the kindliest recollections of his visits to the island. Irish
jockeys are most good-natured and agreeable, he declares, and a
stranger riding with them gets quite as fair play there as anywhere
else. They are rather casual people, but infinitely cheery. When
he first went to Ireland, wanting to know the form, he became a
subscriber to the Irish Calendar, and noticed that his name was
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CAPTAIN WENTWORTH HOPE-JOHNSTONE 365
being spelt incorrectly by the person to whom he paid his subscrip-
tion. He drew the clerk's attention to the fact, who affably
replied as he closed the book, " Shure, it's no matter; I'll expect
you'll get it all the same ! " Going to look at a horse one day he
thought he would try it, and, getting on, asked the head man to
take up the off-side stirrup a hole. The delightful old fellow at once
replied, " Shure, I never knew a good man yet that didn't ride with
one leg shorter than the other ! " They use quaint expressions,
these Irish horsemen. One good horse on which Captain Hope-
Job nstone had a ride in the Downshire Plate at Punchestown was
Cyrus. He had run out the first day and seemed to have a disposi-
tion for so doing. As Dan McNally, Linde's man, was putting him
up he remarked, " If you find him hard to turn, Captain, don't pull ;
CHAMPION
pluck at him — he's only a scholar!'* It is very curious that the
race should have been completely reproduced at Liverpool in 1882.
Cyrus beat everything except Seaman in this race at Punchestown,
and in the National Seaman, Lord Manners up, little used as he was
to race-riding, beat Cyrus, with one of the famous Beasley brothers
in the saddle, by a head. The fact seems to have been that Cyrus
had a leg, and was not quite at his best.
A horse with which Captain Hope-Johnstone's name will always
be associated is old Champion, who at the present time is leading a
placid and happy existence at his owner's place near Edenbridge.
Late in the eighties Mr. John Bell Irving asked Captain Hope-
Johnstone to buy him a horse. The price, it was understood, was
to be somewhere about 300 guineas, and going to the December
sales at Newmarket the commissioner took such a fancy to
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366 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Champion, who had been in Darling's stable as a two-year-old, that he
bought the son of Victor and Violante for nearly thrice the sum he
had been authorised to give. His doubts as to whether he had done
right were soon set at rest, Mr. Bell Irving expressing himself as
very pleased, and suggesting that Captain Hope-Johnstone had
better take him home and train him. He ran in a hurdle race at
Hamilton, and was beaten a head ; his trainer having, indeed, been
too careful of him. " He is really not quite fit,*' Captain Hope-
Johnstone remarked to the owner. ** But the fact is, he cost so
much that I have been afraid to gallop him ! " *' Bash him along!"
was the reply; so bashed along he was, and few horses have ever had
a longer or more successful career. In due time he passed into the
possession of Mr. Naylor Leyland, whose horses Captain Hope-
Johnstone trained and rode with such extraordinary success. In all
Champion ran 99 races ; of these he won ^j, he was second 33 times,
and 8 times third. It is rather strange to see the old horse now and
to remember that he was a contemporary of Merry Hampton who
won the Derby the year after Ormonde, the year Reve d'Or won the
Oaks for the late Duke of Beaufort.
Another horse whom Captain Hope-Johnstone often rode to
victory was Gauntlet, a somewhat tricky and uncertain animal who
would by no means go for everybody, but did everything he was
asked to do for his accustomed rider. For him indeed almost all
horses went kindly, he possessin?^ the rare gift of perfect hands.
Readers whose memories go back a few years will also remember
Constance. She was originally the property of the Duke of
Hamilton, for whom Captain Hope-Johnstone rode her one day
without success. ** She is not quite up to your mark, I should
think," he observed to the Duke after the race ; ** but she's a nice
sort of mare all the same. How much will you take for her ? " ** I
will give her to you," the Duke kindly replied. The gift was
accepted, and for her new owner she did good service.
Among the many jackets that Captain Hope-Johnstone has
worn is that of General Byrne, the owner of Amphion, whom many
will recollect for his extreme kindness and courtesy. He had a use-
ful horse called Charleville, whom Captain Hope-Johnstone had
been going to ride for him at Croydon, but the animal came to grief
badly, and had to be killed a week before. ** I'm so sorry you have
lost your nice horse," Captain Hope-Johnstone remarked to the
General. **I am the more sorry," he replied, "because you are
deprived of what would have been a pleasant ride on him.''
In writing about Mr. Gwyn Saunders-Davies last month, I
expressed doubt as to whether any other rider had ever kept record
of his mounts, and whether, if he had done so, they would show
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CAPTAIN WENTWORTH HOPE-JOHNSTONE 367
such an excellent average. Captain Hoj>e-Johnstone, I find, has a/so
kept a record, and his total is a little superior to that of our mutual
friend. From 1866, when he began riding, to 1897, when he retired
from the saddle, he was up in 1,109 races; and of these he won no
fewer than 362. I cannot obtain the figures relating to seconds and
thirds, but he had 98 falls, and there is a note of 28 refusals. This
strikes me as particularly interesting. The majority of the races he
has ridden have been a distance of two miles, but he has been up in
Nationals and in events over all courses. There are eight fences
in a mile, and altogether I calculate that 1,109 races means some-
thing like 23,000 jumps: the 28 refusals in this total therefore tell a
wonderful tale of consistent skill and courage. Out of his last
96 rides Captain Hope-Johnstone won on 50 occasions, and he
THE BEST OF FRIENDS— CHAMPION AND PONY
headed the list of gentlemen riders in 1876 with 45 wins, and in
1877 with 55 out of 114. Twice he has carried off five races in an
afternoon — at Dunfermline in 1877, and at Burgh-by-Sands in 1885.
On this last occasion he would have won the whole six, but could not
get down to the weight for the last race, and would indeed have
had to carry 7 lb. over. He was afraid this would have been taxing
the horse unduly ; but the opinion was wrong, as it won with a good
14 lb. in hand. He would thus have swept the board, a feat
^vhich, if my memory serves, was once accomplished by Mr. C. J.
Cunningham.
Captain Hope-Johnstone, settled down to a pastoral life in a
charmingly picturesque district of Kent, still takes not only a keen,
but it may be said in a sense an extremely active, part in sport
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368 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
under National Hunt Rules. He farms, and one of the illustrations
shows some of the big mules which do his work, whilst others
exhibit a few of the Shetland ponies of which he was formerly a
great breeder. Beautiful little creatures they were ; their size
may be gathered by comparison with the horse to which one of them
is acting as leader, and also by noting the height of the ecclesiastical
dignitary who stands behind the team in another photograph. The
pony whose likeness is given measures 32 inches.
The active work to which reference has just been made is, of
course, as a member, and former Steward, of the National Hunt, and
as a Steward of various meetings in the South of England, notably
Gatwick, Lingfield, and Plumpton, which owe much to the super-
vision of so experienced a sportsman. There is a general tendency
to blame the Stewards for all sorts of shortcomings of which they
are, as a rule, not guilty. Stewards vary, of course, and at some
meetings it may happen that the wrong men are occasionally chosen,
men who do not understand the ins and outs of the sport or really
know the rules which govern it. Somebody ** fancies " a horse, or
is ** told** that it will win, told by somebody else who has heard a
story emanating from no one knows where. The horse is beaten,
his backers assume that the jockey was not trying, and angrily
demand to be informed whether the Stewards are asleep ? They are
not ; they are quite wide awake, but their superior comprehension
of the business of race-riding convinces them that everything has
been above-board. At other times legitimate suspicions may arise,
and the Stewards may seem remiss ; but they perceive that there is
no possibility of bringing home a charge of malpractice ; a culprit
who is summoned to explain and gives an explanation which cannot
be contradicted rather scores, and has, as it were, a bit in hand
when next awkward questions are put to him — it is not the first time
that he has been unjustly attacked, and so on. When Captain Hope-
Johnstone is Steward of a meeting all interested in it may rest com-
fortably certain that nothing escapes his observation, and that if
inquiry into anything doubtful is necessary that inquiry will be
made, as also that it will be conducted with absolute impartiality
and the shrewdest discrimination. A man does not ride for thirty-
three years, has not passed through the apprenticeship of Kingsbury,
Bromley, Croydon, etc., without seeing a good many strange things
and learning a great deal in various ways. The mere knowledge
that such a Steward is on duty checks the propensities of those who
would like to travel devious paths if they dared.
I remember asking Captain Hope-Johnstone if he betted much
when in the thick of the fray. Riding constantly, as he did, a man
comes to know the form of horses ^and of jockeys, and should not
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CAPTAIN WENTWORTH HOPE-JOHNSTONE 369
seldom get on the track of a good thing — so far as any horse ever is
good in this sense. ** No ; I never bothered about betting," was his
reply. " Sometimes, if I could get 10 to i about an even-money
chance, I had a fiver on ; but that was all."
Liked and respected by all who know him, Wenty Hope-
Johnstone remains the best of good fellows and good sportsmen.
SOME OF THE MULES
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STRANGE STORIES OF SPORT
XIV.— THE PARSON'S BARGAIN
BY C. C. AND E. M. MOTT
There were once two men who lived near a chalk stream. Both
were men of means, of middle age, and of some local importance.
One was a baronet and a director of the Great Mudland Railway, the
other was a parson. Both were fishermen — No. The Rev. the Hon.
Philip Harington Foljambe was a fisherman ; Sir Hardman Testie,
of Red Knights, was just a man who fished.
He had four miles of the Twist to fish in : the Twist, beloved of
all dry-fly artists who can buy, rent, or — or contrive the delights of
casting in its dappled reaches, its slumberous pools where the
** pounders " lie darkling below the tumult of the lasher. Four miles
of the Twist to fish in, and the haughty privilege of ordering off any
fellow- creature whom he caught doing likewise. He might ha\-e
been happy, one would think ?
But oh ! as the song says — ** If it wasn't for the man next
door ! "
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THE PARSON*S BARGAIN 371
The Bshing rights of the glebe meadows belonged to Canon
Foljambe (he was an honorary canon among other things). And
when he was not pounding about the parish of Slapper (which was
most of it comprised in the estate of Red Knights) — when, I say, he
was not hastening to comfort the stricken and to urge the backslider
— hastening on a bicycle in an apostolic undress that included suit-
ably austere knickerbockers, and what ladies call ** a black sailor
hat" — the canon was fishing. Fishing with an airy touch, with a
supple control, as of a grass-widow on the affections of a wary
admirer. Fishing with a second-hand rod tied up at the joints with
bits of string. Fishing — confound his priestcraft! — with •a success
faintly praised, bitterly grudged, by his neighbour, whose bills from
Hardy were distracting merely to read (and would have been more
distracting to pay) ; whose fly went in with a plop and a flump, and
came out with a fluther and a scrape. Well, well ! We cannot be
g^eat executants in all directions. Sir Hardman was a pillar, or say
a sandbag, in the fabric of commerce: he had made a fortune, and
a name, and a handle to it. The Hon. Philip didn't sweat and pant
after these prizes. He had loafed and dandered on till his charm
of manner and a cousinly viscount had foisted him into this soft
sinecure — and there subsided on his luck.
Well might he rest and be thankful and ask no more of fortune.
He had only a mile of water, true ; but the best on the river — clear
of weed — abundantly stocked — too close to the rectory windows for
poachers. They poached Sir Hardman's four-mile beat instead I
(The baronet was thrifty — a Hunks, if you like— and would not pay
a. river- watcher's wages.) In all ways the trend of circumstance
favoured the parson, and accounted for his triumphs ; luck, all luck.
Sir Hardman was ready to swear. Indeed, he was ready to swear
vvithout any further defined grounds for the proceeding, as, much
embarrassed by his sumptuous tackle, he clambered over the river-
side stile one evening. The time was spring, the fly was up, his
creel was almost empty, and the canon was coming over the bridge,
bulging with satisfaction as usual, thought the baronet, who himself
bulged unalterably and with no satisfaction at all — some outworks of
his figure always would protrude from behind the ambush whence
he endeavoured to stalk an astute " two-pounder.*'
" What luck ? " said the layman, with a snarl.
'* What sport ? " said the priest, with a smile, as they advanced
towards each other, and met in the middle of the bridge — neutral
territory that divided their fishing grounds.
** No luck at all," said Sir Hardman bitterly.
** Nor I," said the bland canon, "but I've got fourteen all
the same — beauties, six or seven of them" — and he displayed
wo. cxxix. VOL. xxii." April 1906 C C
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372 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
his creel. They were beauties ! ** Let's look at yours," he
suggested.
The miserable magnate complied.
** Ha ! " said the rector, cheerily, ** you've had a lot of practice
to-day, I see."
** Dashed sight too much," snapped the baronet.
** Not quite enough, I think," the rector suavely corrected him.
" Enough what ? " cried Sir Hardman.
" Fish," said Mr. Foljambe, getting over the stile.
" What for ? " shouted the other.
" Dinner," said the Rev. Philip, over his shoulder as he walked
away. Then he relented and called behind him, '* Did you get a
bow from the Archdeacon to-day, Sir Hardman ? "
" No," said the baronet, seemingly mollified. ** He cut me
dead."
" Try him with a * Fisherman's Curse,' " advised the rector.
*' I have," said Sir Hardman. " All I knew, at least ! "
And on this pleasantry they parted. Sir Hardman felt better;
he had capped the parson's joke, and the point was at his own
expense — to be able to get a laugh against himself makes a man feel
magnanimous. He wasn't really a bad sort, Sir Hardman.
The baronet stood on the bridge to light a cigar ; he |>aused,
and puffed, and his anger rankled and rose again as he watched his
rival's satisfied back diminishing across the rectory meadows. A
man's back expresses so much more than his face. There he
strode, with the gait of ownership, along his goodly heritage, and
his neighbour sat on the bridge breaking the Tenth Commandment,
and (what is a deal wors^ breaking it all in vain.
Sir Hardman had hinted that he would enjoy fishing the glebe
water. The rector appeared unaware that any suggestion had been
made to him. The baronet said cordially, ** Look here, Foljambe:
take a day on my beat — next week; say Tuesday — I've a board
meeting. Dine with me when I come back from town."
Foljambe courteously accepted the sport, and declined the
dinner ; made a tremendous basket and sent the best of it to Red
Knights — came in the evening to thank his host and was all wit
and affability over his cigar. And returned the invitation ? Not
he ! covetous old squarson.
Then Sir Hardman spoke out like a man of the world for
neighbourly accommodation and exchange. But the canon was a
man of both worlds, and he smiled and rebuked the greed of the
railway director by quoting Scripture about ewe lambs and Naboth's
vineyard. Smug hireling of a State-pampered Church 1 Confound
his selfish heart, his cunning hand I
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THE PAkSON*S BARGAIN 373
But the ingenuous reader is all this while asking, " Who was the
Archdeacon ? "
He may have been venerable — his age was unknown — but he
wore no gaiters. He was a gigantic trout, who had his habitat
just above the stone bridge. The rector had nicknamed him after
a brother of the cloth. "Just old Maudsley's evasive manner,"
he said pensively, **and very much his expression and figure too."
The trout dwelt between two large stones, and Sir Hardman
had got to know him well by sight — knew the two white marks
on his brown shoulders caused by the attrition of the stones. He
had often and often tried to catch him — with every lawful kind of
dry-fly when the canon watched sardonically from the bridge;
with other and less legal lures (I blush to say it) when he was alone
and unobserved.
But in vain. The Archdeacon was not to be tempted. To tell
the truth, he was a fish with a sense of humour. Alone all day. Sir
Hardman's evening visits appeared to cheer him. He would some-
times flirt and toy with the badly-presented fly — just to amuse the
angler. Sir Hardman's baser lures he scorned. He saw them out
of the tail of his cunning old eye, but let them pass by. He put up
Avith a good deal of splashing (when Sir Hardman's wrist grew tired
with casting, or his temper gave out), but stood it all good-
humouredly for a spell. When he, too, grew tired of it or felt bored,
lazily moving his fins he would drop majestically out of sight under
the arch of the bridge, or would deliberately, being too self-contained
a trout to hurry, seek the seclusion of a patch of duckweed higher
up the stream ; and Sir Hardman, sighing, would reel in his line and
^o in to dinner.
« « ♦ » »
It was a beautiful Sunday evening, and Sir Hardman was out
for a riverside stroll, at peace in his innermost, soothdd by the
blaiul influences of Nature. And the scent of tobacco assailed his
nostrils, and he beheld the rector, in a layman's garb — not even a
priestly collar to sanctify his mufti.
** Thought you were off" for a holiday ! " said the baronet, this
phrase being the politest he could frame for '* What the dickens
are you doing here ? "
*' I am, to-morrow. Rayne, my locum tenens, hospitably insisted
that I should stay as a guest in my own house for the week-end. I
did enjoy hearing him preach this morning ! " said the canon.
•* Is he a sportsman — a fisherman ? " was the director's jealous
inquiry.
'* Rayne? Not he!" said the canon; "he's a married mis-
sionary with a brace of daughters," Foljambe was a bachelor — the
c c 2
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374 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
polite sort that never succumbs. " So I've given him leave to
fish in my water. He'll do no harm. Keep -the poachers
away."
Sir Hardman uttered something between a groan and a grunt.
He leant over the bridge parapet. The Archdeacon, at large
leisure, hung fanning himself in mid-stream. The Rev. Philip
followed the magnate's eye, and — moved by what springs, who knows ?
— perhaps in a mere luxury of holiday benevolence — he put a sudden
challenge.
**Testie!" said he, "here's an offer. If you can land that
fellow this season, we'll * pool our water ' — that's an appropriate
phrase, what ? — we'll share the five-mile stretch, and fish it between
us. What d'ye say ? "
The baronet, after all, was a business man.
" Not I," quoth he. ** That's one for me and four for yourself,
rector. But, suppose I creel the Archdeacon by a given date,
I'll let you, at an easy rent, the mile of my water that's next your
own, and you shall fish my three miles and I'll fish your two,
separately or in company "
** Not more than twice a week," inserted the parson.
** Mf." The baronet paused — considered — agreed. ** Not more
than twice a week without special leave from either side. Yes.
Well, Foljambe ? "
The canon reflected in his turn. " If you basket the Arch-
deacon (I'd like you to produce him — mere formality, of course)
before August, I consent. The arrangement to be binding in sactUa
sceculoruyn"
** Dissoluble only by mutual consent," subjoined Sir Hardman.
** Is it a bargain ? Shake hands on it ! "
They shook. The baronet looked over the bridge at the witness
and subject of the treaty, who still wavered, unconscious of this
conspiracy, above the pebbles. '* Er — any stipulations about what
tackle I may use ? "
'• My dear sir," declared the canon, *' to make any would be to
insult a fellow sportsman ! "
And the curtain drops upon the Rev. Philip making his exit
with a bag of golf clubs in the direction of St. Crambo's. From the
train windows he regarded the shining stretches of the Twist. " He
won't catch the Archdeacon. Let him try any dodge he likes.
Might as well fish for him with his hat ! "
« « « « »
Sir Hardman angled for the Archdeacon with hope, with patience,
with desperation, for the weeks were dwindling, and so was the
water. Then, realising that his intemperate whipping of the river
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THE PARSON'S BARGAIN 375
^as likely to defeat his ends, he gave the pool by the bridge a long
rest and fished elsewhere.
During this abstinence there came a dreadful evening when he
only saw one fish, and lost that, and lost his cast, and his flies, and
his temper, and nearly lost his balance on the bank and fell in — not
his balance at the bank : that was more stable. After that he
savagely dislocated his rod and stumped homewards.
En route something caught his eye — a fragment of gut floating
from a bush. He paused. " I didn't get hung up just here." He
clawed at the bough with the handle of his landing-net, and secured
the drifting strand.
He scowled. He had lost a lot of tackle that day, but this was
none of his. Coarse Marana — a regular cart-rope — revolting to a
trout of sensibility. No wonder the fish were all sulking !
Who — who was the scoundrel ? Almost Sir Hardman rej>ented
his thrift — wished he had a gang of river- watchers patrolling the
banks, instead of being left to play the detective alone. Alone ?
Why, there was his young nephew, Horace Lyster (Magdalen,
Oxon :) coming next week. He would find the young shaver some
scope for his assumed smartness !
Sir Hardman passed the bridge with a shudder. The poachers
might have caught the Archdeacon ! **They may catch him yet,
if I don't catch them I '' thought he.
In a few days Horace arrived, a youth of muscular build and
sedate manners. He smoked his uncle's cigars with apparent gusto,
and listened to his uncle's grievances with what looked like respect-
ful sympathy.
** I'll come with you," he said, **and if we come across any
poaching rascals I'll try and shove 'em into the river."
On this agreement they sallied out next morning, Horace as
gillie, with a pipe and the landing-net.
'* Hereabouts, Horace," said the baronet, coming to a solemn
pause, " was where I found the broken cast on Tuesday night. On
that bush, Horace."
Horace regarded the bush, regarded the baronet, with un-
faltering eye, and said, ** Sure it wasn't one of your own ? "
Sir Hardman gave vent to that indescribable noise peculiar to
old gentlemen in their scorn. Horace did not wince ; he only stood
at ease with the landing-net and stoppered his pipe with his little
finger and watched attentively the movements of his uncle, who
had got his fly hooked up in some grass.
" Come along," said the irritated baronet jerking out the fly and
the command at the same instant. Followed by his lieutenant he
lowered himself with ponderous precautions down a steep bank.
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The angler here could cast from the convenient screen of a black-
thorn bush. The bulky magnate disposed himself for action, and
then —
" Hullo ! " he breathed, in a stertorous soUo voce. " What's
THAT ? "
It was a pair of legs, long and slim, and visible nearly to the
knee, in brown hose and tan shoes with square toes. The owner,
out of sight, recumbent on the high bank opposite, seemed at ease ;
the legs swung to and fro in sheer abandon, to the rhythm of a
tunefully-whistled air.
The baronet glared and blew. ** It's some beast of a boy ! "
" Quis puer gracilis — " murmured Horace, who flirted, of course,
with his irresponsible old namesake's muse. He recognised the
sex of the phenomenon well enough, young dog; and so did Sir
Hardman next minute.
" It's a girl — why, there are some more ! "
" Are there ? How many ?" inquired his junior in a stage whisper
and with distinct interest.
Peering further from their covert, uncle and nephew observed
another pair — of boots this time; brown boots laced trimly,
thoroughbred ankles, a glimpse of a serge skirt.
** Girls — two girls ! " Sir Hardman gurgled and choked. " D'you
see, Horace ? "
** Yes," said the Oxford man, demurely. Then, in a tone
of detached criticism, and, as the French say, pour soi, " I should
think the girls are pretty."
The enraged uncle neither heard nor heeded his nephew's
comment. He climbed a step backwards up the bank, with a view
to dealing with the situation from the top of it. He could now
see both the intruders quite plain, though neither of them was
plain to see. Tan Shoes was long-limbed and freckled and fifteen,
and going to make a beauty by-and-by, but not worrying herself
about the matter at present. She lay on her back whistling in
ragamuffin content. Brown Boots was some three years older ;
she had no hat on, her hair was the curly sort that doesn't flop
and go limp in the rain, and she was eating jam sandwiches
with keen dispatch
Of real hunger,
like the angel who dropped in to luncheon with Adam and Eve.
At her elbow was propped a rusty and archaic trout-rod, the top
dapping into the water. Between the precious pair lay a creel fit
to carry a Spey salmon. So plainly this apparatus declared the tiro,
contempt almost smothered the baronet's wrath. Probably they
had not done much harm ! But just then the younger damozel
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THE PARSON'S BARGAIN 377
rolled over with a laugh and said audibly, " Oh, I must take another
look at them ! "
"Baby!" replied the elder sister with indulgent mockery,
biting into another jam sandwich — oh, such dents de jcunc chicn!
The basket opened, and out of it tumbled a cascade of trout,
and trout, and more trout, some stark already, the first of the
catch, some agape and twisting yet, glistening and sleek, creamy
belly and crimson dot, all sizes, here a bulky pounder, a finger-long
skipjack there — a couple of dozen at least. A pretty kettle of
fish!
Seething, impotent, hypnotised, the baronet stood at gaze.
** That's all, I think," remarked the graceless hoyden, and she
turned the creel upside down and shook it, and the outraged pro-
prietor's fury burst.
Reckless of the tender age and the fragile sex of the intruders,
he bellowed as through a megaphone, ** Hi ! "
With this apostrophe his foot slipped. The Lord of Red
Knights plunged headlong, flourished his arms like a callow seraph
learning to fly, sat down wildly on a grassy promontory, scrambled
on end with a blaspheming splutter, and remained rooted mid-leg
deep in the cold water with the collar-stud loose at the back of his
neck and his top joint jammed in a tree. Horace put out his pipe,
and stood at attention on the bank. He had expected to be bored ;
but fishing with his uncle was developing picturesquely.
The splash had cooled Sir Hardman, and from his Triton
posture he continued the interview thus, with icy suavity:
" I trust you have enjoyed your sport, ladies ? "
He said ladies. These wretched girls must have seen him fall
in, but he had not heard a giggle, and both looked quite composed
now. The young beauty with the sandwiches suspended her
luncheon, and said with pleasant ease —
" I thmk you must be Sir Hardman Testie, aren't you ? Don't
you live quite close to us ? "
** I hope you did not hurt yourself just now ? " the junior added,
gravely.
(*' Not bad for the flapper," Horace criticised.)
These inquiries after his identity and his welfare flustered Sir
Hardman. He wanted to find out who the deuce they were ! He
replied in surly confusion, ** Yes — no, thank you," and automati-
cally he lifted his cap in answer to the salute of the fair unknown ;
and Horace, of course, followed suit, which altered the relations
of things, and made it difficult to be frankly brutal. Resuming the
ironic method Sir Hardman began again.
** Nice stream, isn't it ? "
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378 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
" Nice bwambly stweam/' the ' flapper ' gurgled with infantine
candour.
At this moment Horace, who still stood taking notes, addressed
the elder fisher-maiden with earnest politeness, as his manner was.
** I think your cast's got hooked fast over here," he remarked.
** Can't I get it loose for you ? "
She responded, ** Oh, would you be so kind ? "
Young Oxford, ventre a terre on the edge of a beetling bank, at
the risk of his life, or at any rate of his beautiful grey flannels,
made a bold and victorious grab at the gut. Piscatrix whisked it
across within a few inches of Sir Hardman's nose. The baronet
caught at it in self-defence, and then in amaze, almost in horror,
cried —
*' Why, you're fishing with wet fly ! "
Piscatrix looked puzzled. " Wet ? " said she. ** Oh, yes, I
suppose they are rather."
Mystery thickened round the baronet. Could such ignorance
be? More staggering still, could ignorance have such results as
that pile of silver plunder heaped and stiffening on the grass ? At
that his anger boiled up again. Grimly he inquired —
** Don't you know that you are trespassing here ? "
** But we have leave to fish ! " " But the rector gave us leave
to fish ! " they exclaimed in a reproachful duet, and the baronet
exploded. A-ah, that perjured priest 1
** But it's my water ! " he thundered. '* My water ! My fish !
I can prosecute you both for poaching ! "
The girls for the first time looked taken aback. Then the
younger hurled herself into the gulf of silence. Pulling at her long
pigtail as if it gave her confidence, she declared —
** I only caught one little baby one, and Gwacie only caught
thwee. John caught the w'est. Of course John didn't know
either!"
John ! John didn't know ! Very possibly he didn't, but the
baronet didn't care. Who was John ? Some rascally brother,
some blackguard cousin ; anyhow, something male to vent his rage
upon.
** Where is John? " he inquired, now bland and deadly ; Horace
reflecting, with mixed feelings, that it might be his part to pitch
John into the river. ** Where is John ? "
The girls looked up stream and down stream, and the younger
one exclaimed brightly, ** Here he comes ! "
Sir Hardman splashed out of the pool and stood ankle-deep in
a shallow, breathing fury against the new-comer. He expected a
pert thirteen-year-old, all impudence and knickerbockers. Horace
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THE PARSON'S BARGAIN 379
looked out for something of his own calibre, and awaited orders to
collar the ruffian.
John was barely five feet high, and his age might have been any-
thing up to three hundred years. He was lemon-coloured, with the
impassive eye of the Sphinx. His European trousers were turned
up over bare legs that moved with the padding tread of the coolie ;
he wore a vast hat, more like a straw beehive than anything else.
In one arm he was cherishing a large brown sack.
"Jap?*' Horace asked himself. "No; looks too sleepy," he
decided. " Chinee. Heathen Chinee. He is peculiar. And what
the dickens has he got in that bag ? "
Something alive inside the bag was fidgeting about. Horace
conjectured wildly, " He can't have been fishing with a ferret ! "
The baronet simply gaped, and Miss Gracie, with tact, seized
this moment of calm to explain things. Decidedly some explana-
tion was wanted, but up to now Sir Hardman had appeared too
much heated to listen to any.
" I am Miss Rayne, and this is my sister Sydney, Sir Hard-
man," she began. " We are at the rectory, and Canon Foljambe
gave us leave to fish in his part of the river, and we thought this
was it. I hope you won't blame our Chinese boy John. It was
our fault that he caught all your fish, and of course we will give
them all back ; and will you please show us where we may fish ?
We are so sorry for the mistake ! "
" So so'wy," Sydney echoed.
The baronet partly melted. Who would not have done so at
fair words from a fair speaker ? They were the parson's daughters,
neighbours and new-comers — manners must be considered. No
doubt they had been mistaken ; but — he looked at the overpowering
results of the mistake !
" Perhaps your boy John hasn't caught all my fish even yet ! "
he drily remarked. " But oblige me, Miss Rayne, by explaining
how he managed to catch so many ? " — the sportsman's eagerness
getting the upper hand. " What fly has he been using ? "
The younger Miss Rayne chimed into the dialogue. " Oh, John
doesn't fish with flies nor a w'od," remarked she.
" Then what has he been fishing with ? " Sir Hardman demanded
at large, blazing. What indeed ? What unholy contrivance ?
" John caught them all with his bird," Miss Sydney asserted.
"His what?*' Sir Hardman turned on the young creature;
she met him unflinchingly and repeated —
" His bird." Then she addressed herself in a foreign tongue
to John, who was sitting on the ground like an image of Buddha,
embracing his unexplained bag. What she said seemed equivalent
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38o THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
to " Show this gentleman, John." The heathen thrust in a yellow
hand, and from the mouth of the bag protruded a sleek head, two
shrewd fiery eyes, a powerful bill. ** It's a cormo'want, you see,"
Sydney superfluously explained.
Cormorant, Corvorant, Pelicanus carlo ! Across the baronet's
mind came the look and smell of library shelves, of a calf-bound
Bewick adorned with woodcuts — with charming and totally irrele-
vant woodcuts — and printed with long **s's" like "/s," so that to
his mind's eye the page read somewhat thus: ". . . The Corvor-
ant as before obferved is found in every climate . . . Among
the Chinefe it is faid that they have frequently been trained to
fifh . . ."
The memory passed, and in a flash came hard upon it a wild, a
grand, a desperate idea !
At the same second Horace lifted up his voice with quite a
perceptible shade of empressement, ** It's all right enough, Uncle
Hardman. There was a chap exhibiting with some birds like that
last winter in town. I went and saw it."
** Oh, the deuce you did ! " Sir Hardman was elated beyond all
propriety of speech. "Then it's more than likely, my lad, that
you'll see it again ! " he chuckled in a jubilant aside ; and Horace
stared uncomprehending at his relative's altered cheer. All smiles
now, the baronet pursued —
** Miss Rayne, would you oblige me by ordering your boy John
to catch one more of my fish ? "
Gracie showed surprise. The baronet overruled it. ** One
more fish ? " said she, in wonder.
** One only," he replied. " I'll show you which one ! " And
with this masterful utterance he waded across a shallow of the
Twist, scaled the farther shore, and motioned imperiously to Horace
to follow him.
The baronet was on the top of the bank and of the situation
too. Horace shouldered the net and walked through the river,
flannels and all, without protest. Possibly he thought his uncle had
developed sudden lunacy, and had better not be left. In a pregnant
silence Sir Hardman led on to within ten yards of the bridge;
stopped his personally-conducted party here with a gesture and a
scowl ; grovelled like an Indian scout along the bank, peered with
the stealth of an otter from behind an alder-stump, and from this
position commanded in a blood-curdling whisper, ** Miss Rayne
come here ! "
Gracie advanced.
** John, too, and the bag ! ''
John followed Gracie.
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THE PARSON'S BARGAIN 381
** On your hands and knees — crawl ! *' the baronet ordered.
Humble as we all are when at the mercy of justice, Gracie
dropped on all-fours, and John dragged himself like a wounded
snake, the cormorant flapping and kicking in the bag. Sydney in
the rear pulled nervously at her pigtail ; things were getting beyond
her. Horace reassuringly smiled, " Hold on, we shall see some
fun in a minute.'*
There was a colloquy, the conspirators squatting on the ground,
the baronet instructing in undertones hoarse with suppressed emo-
tion ; Gracie's eyes brightening — the mishap was turning out an
adventure — translating to John. The cormorant, making savage
grabs, was unloosed, a leather thong fastened round its neck, and
John manoeuvred it softly overside into the glassy reach.
Sir Hardman, puffing from his exertions (he wasn't of the build
that enjoys stooping, even to conquer), stationed himself as near
the water as he dared. Gracie retired a yard or two, Sydney let go
her plait and stood with her mouth open, Horace shortened his grip
of the landing-net. So disposed, the band held their breath in a
silence only broken by John, who from time to time addressed the
cormorant in a kind of yap.
Pelicanus Carbo looked superciliously about him ; dived beneath
the gin-clear surface, and swam upstream under water at an amazing
rate. Sir Hardman held his gaze fixed at a point where under the
bicj stone, his accustomed shelter, the Archdeacon hung at ease —
lazy, arrogant, picturesque. The cormorant eyed him — darted —
snapped short ; the great indignant trout rushed for the covert of
the weed-bed. The baronet trembled, and something like a pang of
remorse shot through him. Too late for him to repent, or for the
Archdeacon to escape ! He was already in the grip of those ruthless
mandibles. Now the baronet gloated over his scandalous triumph.
*' If only the beast doesn't bruise him ! " he panted. The * beast '
emerged and swam for land, the prey across his beak. Sir Hardman
already saw him dished up, saw the canon's dumbfoundered expres-
sion— ah ! he would have dished Foljambe, too ! — when, in act to
waddle ashore, the cormorant tossed the trout aloft — missed the
catch — the Archdeacon, a game fish to the last, made a desperate
twist in mid-air, and fell among the ooze and pebbles within six
inches of the river, of life and liberty !
With a yell the baronet flung himself flat and grabbed the
vanishing quarry at the extreme reach of both his arms ; his cap fell
off, and the cormorant snapped at that under a natural mistake;
Sir Hardman lay in a sprawl transfixed, rolling like a walrus in the
death flurry, and Horace, inspired by beauty's eyes, leapt like
Qiiintus Curtius from the bank above, and thrusting the net under
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382 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
the baronet's hands still clenched upon his victim, shouted aloud :
" Tve got him, Uncle Hardman ; let go ! "
And thus, even thus, the Archdeacon was grassed. Mobbed
and hustled to his death, he fell to the base lure of an undesirable
alien — he who had mocked the arts of half a hundred fishermen —
O miserable end ! infandutn ! infandum !
He lay among the buttercups at Sir Hardman's feet; the
baronet had collapsed on the lowest step of the stile, and I believe he
shed tears. The girls clapped wildly : Horace waved the landing-
net round his head and cheered. What the cormorant's feelings
were nobody knows, for John crammed him back in the bag,
snapping like a turtle.
** By Jove ! " said the baronet, getting up and wiping the drops
of agony from his brow.
And the last tableau of this amazing drama presents a back
view of the baronet, of Sydney's pigtail swinging cheerfully beside
him, of Horace following, flirting with Gracie with the same staid
and resolute attack that marked his methods in the football field ;
the whole quartet making for the rectory, John having been dis-
patched as advance courier — how he reported the adventure I don't
know. Mrs. Rayne, a cheerful matron who had consorted with
heathen'potentates, was not at all flustered when her ofispring turned
up with the baronet in tow ; Horace discovered that the Rev. James
Rayne had in his day rowed in the Magdalen boat ; there was a
lively tea in the canon's bachelor sanctum. The Rayne family lived
on poached trout all next day, and the cormorant was (as heralds
describe it) ** royally gorged " on the same.
The Hon. Philip Foljambe, at St. Crambo's, received this
remarkable telegram :
** Archdeacon goes by parcel post to-night.*'
Rector and baronet still live side by side, and still fish their
joint property in peace and comradeship. I met the canon at a
fishing-inn up in the Shetlands, and he told me this tale. So I
know it is fact and not fable. Besides, a fable always has a moral,
and I am sure this hasn't any.
[Bewick quotes Whitlock and Willoughby with regard to this sport as practised in
England in the seventeenth century. The latter says the cormorants were " hoodwinked
in the manner of the falcons till they were let off to fish." ^^ hitlock avers that *• he had
a cast of them manned like hawks, which would come to hand," and relates that the best
he possessed was one presented to him by Mr. Wood, " Master of the Corvorants" to
Charles 1. {British Birds, Vol. II, p. 387). In China these domesticated cormorants are
the property of Government and carefully registered. " John " must have smuggled his
bird across somehow — possibly with the connivance of the missionary — a horrid surmise.]
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HUNTING IN THE MIDDLE AGES
BY THE BARONESS S. VON C.
However much we may pride ourselves upon the national idiosyn-
crasy of the English-speaking race, our love of hunting, there is no
gainsaying the fact that venery, to call the science of hunting
by its ancient name, came to us from France. It was there that
hunting was first regulated by the establishment of well-defined
rules and ceremonials, and became distinguished by a vocabulary of
its own, in which every man of gentle birth had to be well versed,
any transgression of the language or customs of the chase being
deemed as great a lack in education and good manners as would an
illiterate and badly-spelt letter be considered so to-day.
The worship of the tall red-deer came over to Britain with the
Norman conquerors, as did the latter's language, which remained
the Court tongue for quite three hundred years after the landing of
William at Senlac.
In the days of primitive man hunting was as much a measure
of self-defence as was war itself; for not only had our skin-clad
forefathers to pursue the beasts of the forest in order to fill their
larders, but an incessant warfare had to be waged against the
carnivorous beasts of prey who decimated their domestic kine, and
even against deer and wild boar, who devastated their crops. The
distinction between mere pot-hunting, pursued with the sole object
of filling the larder or of destroying noxious animals, and on the
other hand hunting for the sake of sport, dates back to the
earliest times. Arian already says that ** the true sportsman does
not take out his dogs to destroy hares, but for the sake of the course
and of the contest between the dogs and the hare, and is glad if the
hare escapes." And he adds that those Gauls who only course for
the sport and do not live by what they catch never use nets.
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384 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
It has become the fashion to speak of the hunters of olden
times as unsportsmanlike, and as slaughtering rather than hunting
their game. One is told that they considered any means legitimate
so long as they achieved the principal end, the death of the quarry
and the filling of the larder, or the destruction of beasts of prey, in
as easy and inglorious a manner as possible. This is an entirely
unjustified reproach, and were those who utter such sentiments
better acquainted with the old literature of the chase, no such
sneers would be current.
FOX-HUNTING IN THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY — PROBABLY THE OLDEST PICTURE
EXISTING OF THIS SPORT
No one, of course, would contend that hunting in the olden
days was the exact counterpart in every detail of what we enjoy in
England to-day. The surroundings, the game, as well as many
other circumstances, have created an unavoidable distinction.
Hunting the fox and the carted deer are modern forms of sport,
resulting from the almost entire annihilation of big game and the
steady deforestation of the country that has been going on for the
last six hundred years. We can take it, therefore, that from an
early date hunting, shooting, coursing, and driving for the sake of
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HUNTING IN THE MIDDLE AGES 385
Sport pure and simple were carried on side by side with the methods
which were more Saxon or Teutonic than French or Norman,
of hunting within an enclosed boundary for the sake of the larder.
It is necessary to lay emphasis on this, for dire confusion has been
occasioned by various writers who, after somewhat superficial
researches, have failed either to recognise the difference that obtained
in contemporary mediaeval methods of hunting, or to interpret
correctly the pictorial material illustrative of old sport that has come
down to us.
HOW THE BUCK WAS HUNTED FIVE HUNDRED YEARS AGO
The sport that was first and foremost in the heart of all men of
gentle birth in the Middle Ages in France as well as in England
was stag-hunting proper. The descendants of the Gauls, the true
veneurs, discouraged the killing of any animal of venery unless it was
done in a knightly manner, allowing to the hunted beast a certain
amount of fair play. The chase conducted on these lines demanded
courage, skill, endurance, a considerable amount of knowledge of
hounds and of hunting lore. That the life of the stag, wild boar, or
wolf was eventually ended by a shot from a bow or a thrust from a
spear or sword, was merely an incident of no greater importance
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386 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
than is the coup de grace that dispatches the stag standing at bay
before the Devon and Somerset in the twentieth century.
It was the pleasure of tracking the beast to its haunts, of seeing
the hounds picking out the scent, of helping them with voice and
horn, of encouraging them to follow staunchly the tracks of one and
the same beast in spite of all its wiles and ruses, which was the chief
enjoyment ; not the slaying of the hunted animal, nor the riding. A
man was on horseback when hunting in order to be near the
hounds, to check them if they ** hunted the change," to "sore
astry " them if they ran riot, and to be at the bay before antlers or
tusks could work havoc among the pack; he was not mounted
for the mere pleasure of riding. Throughout mediaeval literature
we see that the hounds were the essence of the chase, and not in a
single instance that we know of in the early French and English
literature on hunting is the horse discussed. Every man of gentle
birth was necessarily in those days a horseman ; but this by no
means qualified him as a veneur, for venery was an art by itself, which
required a lifelong apprenticeship. It is very likely that could one
of these mediaeval hunters come to life, he would be as much
astonished if asked to negotiate a post-and-rails or a bullfinch, as he
would be at the unorthodox views regarding the raison d'etre of
hunting entertained to-day by the large majority of riders to hounds.
Hunting with hounds was called hunting by strength of
hounds, a very direct rendering of the French prendre a force de
chiens, and was generally shortened in both languages to hunting at
force; in Germany, Par Force Jagd, Coursing with greyhounds
was called prendre a force de levriers. This latter was resorted to
when the deer had been hunted up in some enclosed or partiaUy
enclosed place, whether the boundaries were made of nets or hedges
or stations of huntsmen and greyhounds, which latter were called
** stables." Greyhounds were occasionally slipped when the quarry
broke covert and went away over an open country, in order to
wind or ** burst " the animal, so that the raches or hounds could
overtake it. The latter were of the heavy bloodhound type, endowed
with more nose than pace, and however invaluable they may have
been for forest hunting, they probably stood a poor chance of over-
taking a " light *' or swift beast which had got a good start of them
in a clear country.
Sportsmen of old were exceedingly particular about ** refusing
the change," i.e. of keeping to the stag they had first roused or
started, and killing him only. However often the wily hart might
push up another stag and make him take his place — he himself
lying down in some copse or thicket, his antlers laid low on his back,
thus hiding himself and causing the hounds to hunt his substitute—
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HUNTING IN THE MIDDLE AGES 3^7
no huntsman or hounds worth anything would accept the change,
and most praise was lavished on those hounds who staunchly stuck
to the line of the first stag, " unravelling the change '* even if the
pursued took refuge among a whole herd of deer.
In the fifteenth century, chiefly in consequence of civil disorders
brought about by the French wars, game was becoming scarcer in
England, and by the time Henry VIII. ascended the throne the ideas
about sport had undergone considerable changes, woodcraft being
no longer held up as the ideal. Sir Thomas Eliot, writing in 1531,
speaks of the chase as a means of obtaining exercise and showing
HOW RBD DBBR WBRB STALKBD WITH THB CROSS-BOW IN THB MIDDLE AGBS
prowess, and he recommends a characteristic reward for the suc-
cessful hunter, which would have been hailed with derision by the
t;^w^wrs of preceding centuries. After stating that the red deer and
fallow deer be pursued with ** javelins and other waipons in manner
of warre,'* he declares that as a suitable reward at the end of the day
*• a garland or some lyke token be gyven in signe of victorie '* !
While James I. in the following century made an attempt to
reintroduce Norman hunting into England from France, where it
vv^as still flourishing, and for this purpose caused French veneurs and
hunting establishments to be brought to England, the changed
NO. cxxix. VOL xxii.— 'April 1906 D D
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388 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
conditions of life as well as the scarcity of wild deer foredoomed it
to failure. It can therefore be said that old English hunting became
extinct in the fifteenth century.
Before reverting to the literature on our subject it is necessary
to say a few words about the pot-hunting professional hunter in the
Middle Ages, whose duty it was to keep the king's larder well
supplied with venison. The hunting establishments of the earlier
Plantagenet kings consisted of packs of harthounds, buckhounds,
harriers, and otterhounds, over each of which was placed a master
HARE-COURSING IN THE FIPTBENTH CENTURY
with a daily wage of twelve pence (Edward II.). As attendants they
had yeomen at horse, and yeomen berners who attended on foot to
the running hounds; then there were fewterers or veutrers, as were
called the attendants on the greyhounds ; then lymerers or limers,
who led the lymer or tracking hound ; then bercelettars or yeomen of
the bow, or archers, with a daily wage of two pence ; and finally
chacechiens or inferior grooms with a wage of three halfpence. Over
the whole ruled the Master of Game, a title created by Henrj' IV.
as a mark of special distinction for his cousin of York, a personage
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HUNTING IN THE MIDDLE AGES 389
of whom we shall presently have some more to say. These Royal
packs were sent about the country in order to obtain venison for
the King's larder in the Royal Forests ; and though as a rule the hart-
hounds were used only for stag-hunting, we occasionally come across
an instance of buckhounds being used for that purpose, or, vice versa,
harthounds for the chase of the fallow-buck. The principal season
for this larder-hunting was the ** fat venison season " in July and
August, when deer were in prime condition. A ** lardener " accom-
panied these expeditions, his duties consisting of salting and packing
HUNTING THE LYNX OR WILD CAT IN THE MIDDLE AGES
the venison in barrels, for which he received a wage of two pence a
day. Besides these at that period sufficient wages, certain allow-
ances and fees were attached to each office. Clothes and boots
and, when actually at Court, also lodging and food were provided,
and the skins and certain minor parts of the animals killed were
divided amongst the staff. When the establishments were moved
about the country from one forest to another orders were sent
by the King to the sheriffs of the counties through which they
passed or where they hunted, commanding them to pay the wages
of the men, the keep of the hounds, which usually amounted to
D D 3
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390 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
half a penny per day for each running hound, and a penny a day for
the limers and greyhounds, and to provide the necessary means for
transporting the venison barrels to the place where the Court
happened to reside. These sums were usually reimbursed to the
sheriff from the Royal Exchequer ; but one comes across numerous
instances of remissness in this respect, and consequently refusals
on the part of sheriffs to burden themselves with these payments,
notwithstanding that the order to do so was issued by a warrant
under the King's privy seal.
Sometimes curious means were adopted to pay long-outstanding
wages. Thus John Boys, the King's veuterfer, and Robert Compnore,
his ferreter, ** who have long served the King (Edward III.) and the
Black Prince without receiving aught, whilst the said John had in-
curred great expense c\ er the Royal greyhounds, and the said Robert
had spent his substance in the safe-keeping of the King's ferrets and
hounds," were given such sums of money as were due as fines to the
King (from the sheriff) for the escape from Bedford prison of three
prisoners. In certain instances old debts were squared by giving the
patient hunt-servant a **safe" post, such as "keeper of the chase
and warren " in some Royal forest, where the fees and profits, con-
sisting of the pannage-money which the surrounding owners of cattle
and pigs had to pay for the privilege of turning their kine into the
woods, formed a substantial income. In other cases, particularly in
that of trusted old servants past their work, they were domiciled in
priories or monasteries, where they were provided with the necessaries
of life free of charge. Thus ended William de Husseborne, Philip of
Candevere,'and William Twici, orTwiti, Edward II. 's famous hunts-
man, and author of the oldest existing treatise on English hunting,
penned in the curious Norman French which is still spoken in the
Channel Islands. There were other fees which helped the pro-
fessional hunters to tide over bad times. Thus the substantial sura
of seven shillings and sixpence was paid to him who killed the first
buck or stag of the season, while in France the man who brought the
first ** fraying- post," or tree against which stags had rubbed off the
velvet from their antlers (which showed that they were becoming
'* clean"), received a horse as present if he happened to be a "gentle-
man of the venery," and if he were a limereror "varlet of the blood-
hound " he received a coat.
Another usual reward for professional hunters was the gift of
firewood ; ** Henry de Candovre, the King's huntsman, keeping the
buckhounds {canes damericios),'' has two oak trunks for fuel in 1278,
and two years later we hear of a command to the sheriff to cause
** Richard le Sauser and Thomas de Candovere, the King's huntsmen,
to have six oak trunks in the King's woods for fuel." One of the most
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HUNTING IN THE MIDDLE AGES 391^
desired rewards was to be appointed ** parker,** for the perquisites of
this office seem to have offered considerable attractions, Harrison
in his chronicles mentioning that ** besides his salary the parker hath
of every deer the skin, head, numbles, chine, and shoulders, whereby
he that hath a warrant for a whole buck hath in the end little more
than half"!
These professional huntsmen of the King no doubt conducted
their sport in a businesslike manner so as to obtain the venison as
expeditiously as possible. For this purpose they employed various
HOW THE MASTER OF GAME INSTRUCTED HIS HUNTSMEN TO BLOW THE HORN
snares, pitfalls, and enclosures made of hurdle fences, which latter
Mrere one of the most ancient hunting appurtenances of our Saxon
forefathers, who called them hayes or haia. Saltatoriums or deer-
leaps were, as the name indicates, artificially-prepared contrivances
A^hich enabled stags to enter a forest or park, out of which they,
however, could not escape. Of these and other unsportsmanlike
snares and traps the man of gentle blood made but scanty use.
Gaston Phoebus, that most famous of all mediaeval sportsmen, and
author of what is unquestionably the best hunting book of the Middle
Ages, records his feehngs in the following words: ''After I have
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392 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
spoken of how to hunt wild beasts with stren^h [i.e. with hounds] I
will devise how one can take them by mastery [skill] , and with what
engines one can do it. For it seems to me that no one is a perfect
hunter if he knows not both to take beasts by strength and with gins;
but I will speak of this unwillingly, for I should not teach to take
beasts unless it be by nobleness and gentleness, and to have good
sport, and that they be not killed falsely."
From the foregoing the reader will have obtained some insight
into the old Norman hunting which prevailed in England up to the
HOW HOUNDS WBRB DOCTORBD IN THE MIDDLB AGES
end of the fifteenth century, and which differed as does day from
night from the subsequent ** game slaughter '* which became fashion-
able on the Continent during the two following centuries, or from
English hunting during the Stuart period.
No work of recent years, and certainly no previous English book,
gives us a better picture of what hunting was like in the Middle Ages
than the recently published "Master of Game,'* dealing with our
oldest English hunting book written by that ** rubustious" Plan-
tagenet, Edward, Duke of York, who fell at the head of the English
advance guard at Agincourt, a.d. 141 5.
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HUNTING IN THE MIDDLE AGES
393
into '^m^dTr^En:^^ fhe'tlct'''? f' '^ "'t "'*' ' '''"^'^^^'on
teems bein- exotinS'- tf<=hnical terms with which the book
while an exc£rK M- """^'f "°*"' ""^ '" ^" admirable glossary
before tL7e^7L'^Zt' °' H ' ""'t, °" ''""^-Z-S
for all wh/fol ^ '' ^" indispensable work of reference
dent Theodore Ron 'I .-^ "* of modern sportsmen. Presi-
world has mSe sport Z;^"''"^ "" ^'^V^"^""- '" -hich the old
interest of this valu^W ^'^^"P^*'^" ^^ '*= leisure, enhances the
venery; whHe the l". ? ^°" "^ution to our knowledge of ancient
reproducdons om the ! ? "' ""^'""' Photogravure plates,
vi^. " Gaston Ph-h '. '* ^^."^"' °^ ^" ^"*^'^"' hunting books
Nationafeof pLttive °" °^ *.*^^ *-— of the BiblLh^que
those remote day ' ^ "' ' '"P''"' '^^'^ ^^^'^^^ ^P^'"' "^^^ like in
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THE COMING CRICKET SEASON ^
BY HOME GORDON
A CRICKET season immediately following one distinguished by the
visit of an Australian team is apt to be regarded with anticipations
of tameness. In the present case, however, there seems little reason
for such gloomy foreboding. In fact, it is many years since such
alertness has been noticed in the spring; for, unlike the British
Government after the South African war, English cricketers show a
keen desire to profit by the lessons of last summer. The wide re-
sponse to and keen discussion of an article I contributed to the
National Review of last December, dealing with ** The Waning
Popularity of First-Class Cricket," suggests that on all sides there
is a general desire to remove the imperfections threatening the
attractiveness of the game.
The most serious contemporary matter is the increasing pro-
portion of drawn games. Last season the Australians drew exactly
fifty per cent, of their matches, and out of 113 contests in the county
championships 55 were unfinished. There is no need to dilate upon
the demoralising effect an evitable and useless draw has upon
cricketers and spectators. More interesting is it to note that Essex
have proposed to the committee of M.C.C. to adopt the scoring
favoured by the minor counties. Upon that proposal Mr. O. R.
Borrodaile, the energetic secretary of the eastern county, in the
course of a long conversation with me, observed that though he
does not affirm this provides a final settlement, yet it is at least
an endeavour towards obtaining an augmented number of decisive
results, and whilst open to modifications if practice suggests im-
provement on theory, he believes it will tend to brighten cricket.
The system of scoring thus advocated is to give three points for
a win outright, and one for a result decided on the first innings.
Mr. Borrodaile himself confesses he would like to deduct a point for
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THE COMING CRICKET SEASON 395
every draw, but that is at present only an Elysian dream. His
theory is that, as matters now stand, if a day and a half has been
wasted by rain, to start a county match is virtually waste of time,
but under his modification a keen contest could be waged.
No one in England is so competent to offer an opinion as
Mr, A. M. Miller, who takes such an active share in the cricket of
the minor counties. He writes : '* There are a good few cricketers
playing for minor counties now who have had a great deal of ex-
perience in first-class cricket, and they are pretty well unanimous
that the system of scoring points for a win on the first innings is a
^reat improvement on the plan by which the first-class counties
decide their competition. There is, however, a division of opinion
as to whether the value of points for a win on the first innings
should be two and for a completed match three, or two and five,
or one and three, respectively. This is not an argument against the
system, but merely about the ratio, and it is certain that the minor
counties will not go back to the methods of the first-class counties,
which they used up to the end of 1901, as the players prefer the
new system." This was written before the Essex proposition was
announced, and Mr. Borrodaile regards the ratio as unimportant, so
long as the new principle is introduced. Among the amateurs who
last year participated in the minor competition, having already had
experience of first-class county matches, may be cited Messrs. J. H.
and W. H. Brain, P. J. de Paravicini, A. C. M. Croome, T. N. Per-
kins, and A. K. Watson.
Another suggestion forwarded to me by a member of the Wel-
lington Club is that a side should be compelled to declare as soon as it
has obtained a lead of 250 runs. He adds : ** This would be unpopular
with batting-average-mongers, but it involves no useless leather-
hunting, and keeps the game always alive." Without agreeing that
it is feasible, the present writer at least thinks it is a proposal
sufficiently interesting to be mentioned. It may be added that in
a very large batch of letters from known and unknown corre-
spondents, those not officially connected with a county executive
unanimously condemn the tea interval.
Naturally the views on the game of the English captain must
be of great interest, and in a letter to me the Hon. F. S. Jackson
vvrrites: ** In my humble opinion the popularity of first-class cricket
has been at its very top during the last few years, and it has been
at a height that could not be maintained, and must necessarily
decline to a more normal state; but at the same time I believe the
section of the cricket-loving public is as large as ever.*' Most de-
cidedly : but is it not the very love of cricket that keeps spectators
a^vay from matches in which leg-play and the abuse of the off-ball,
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396 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE.
as well as lack of a probable definite result, rob the exhibition of all
genuine sport ?
The opinion of the Hon. F. S. Jackson was displayed in a number
of speeches of a distinctly frank nature last autumn, but he did not
carry that frankness so far as to tell us who were the two amateurs
who wrote asking to be played for England, for though the identity
of one is an open secret, that of the other forms a myster>\ His
optimism is curiously at variance with the balance-sheets of quite a
number of first-class counties, which only reveal satisfactory results
because of the receipts obtained from the Australian tour.
Warwickshire, for example, shows a deficit of 3^132, notwith-
standing the fact that the club received 3^315 as a share of the Test
Match receipts. Gloucestershire, Somersetshire, Derbyshire, Hamp-
shire, and Essex could also give reports fraught with anxiety. The
financial basis is not the sporting one, but so long as cricket is
avowedly run on the gate-money basis, it is impossible to deny that
it refutes the satisfactory view of the English captain.
Absolute apathy has been the attitude at home towards the tour
of the moderate M.C.C. team in South Africa. Mr. G. A. Brooking
mentions in that capital periodical The A merican CricheUr that an
article was published in a London weekly from the pen of Mr. P. F.
Warner, in which he stated that the team was stronger than any
eleven that had yet appeared from England. This is in marked
contrast to the general feeling that the side is not sufficiently repre-
sentative to make Test Matches satisfactory, considering that the
^ame is progressing in South Africa in a most marked degree.
Mr. J. N. Crawford, Denton, Hayes, Haigh, and Blythe, fine as
they are, have not colleagues worthy of places in the England
team at home. This was in no sense the fault of the energetic
executive of M.C.C, but the result is the curiously marked indif-
ference. Naturally the inference is that the next South African
side that comes home will find the more hearty welcome. Already
one new cricketer has been discovered in Nourse, who bowls well,
his best ball coming from leg, whilst his left-handed batting is com-
pared by a member of the M.C.C. side to that of Mr. Darling or
Mr. Hill. By the way, it is notable that in the current Australian
season the chief feature is the great batting of Messrs. McAlister and
Mackay, both candidates for the trip to England last summer, but
rejected in favour of Messrs. Gregory and Hopkins.
My warmest thanks are due to the officials whose generous
kindness has enabled me to give the following facts, though in no
way must they be held responsible for the opinions advanced.
At Lord's, Hardstaff of Notts, Reeves and Buckenham of Essex,
and Head of Wiltshire, have been added to the ground-staff. No
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THE COMING CRICKET SEASON 397
changes have been made in the buildings round the ground except
the pulling down of the iron structure used as a refreshment bar on
the practice ground. The counties which meet M.C.C. at St. John's
Wood are Notts, Yorkshire, Derbyshire, Kent, Leicestershire, and
Worcestershire, whilst the usual trials precede the University match
^vhich begins on Thursday, July 5, Gentlemen v. Players being
on the following Monday, and Eton v. Harrow on Friday, the 13th.
The West Indians play M.C.C. immediately afterwards, having
met Lord Brackley's West Indian team on June 18. The Whit
Monday match, which, as usual, is Middlesex v. Somersetshire, is
for the benefit of V. A. Titmarsh, an old and valued servant of the
club, both as cricketer and umpire. Few professionals have ever
been more widely and deservedly respected. Like Diver and
Nichols, he first played as an amateur. The long programme at
Lord's deserves special appreciation for the increased number of such
matches as those of Gentlemen of M.C.C. v. Household Brigade,
R.E. and R.N., as well as fixtures with Royal Academy and Public
Schools, and one between Authors and Actors.
Dr. W. G. Grace writes that the London County Cricket Club
has arranged a long series on the same lines as last year. Although
not able to afford many first-class matches, out and home will be
played under the title of Gentlemen of England v. Cambridge
University, an out match with Oxford, the West Indians will open
their tour at the Crystal Palace, and Surrey will be encountered at
the Oval on Easter Monday. Having asked the G.O.M. of cricket,
who has such a wonderful appreciation of young players, if he can
commend anyone, he answers, " A. Marshall, who was engaged last
season and this at the Palace, and who is qualifying for Surrey,
having been born in Queensland, is one of the finest all-round
cricketers I have ever seen. He made over a centur)' seven times for
London County, is a fair bowler, and a good field."
Mr. M. W. Payne is an optimistic secretary to Cambridge
University, for he concludes a particularly incisive report with :
** Does this impress you that Cambridge will beat Oxford ? I don't
think we shall lose many matches.'* The prospects are unusually
bright, for there are nine old choices available for 1906, as well as
Mr. Hopley, who received his blue in 1904. Mr. Eyre is the
captain, and Mr. Payne will of course keep wicket. To support
these two batsmen the chief run-getters will be Messrs. Colbeck,
Young, Keigwin, and Page. In bowling, Messrs. Napier and
Morcom will lead off. The need will be to strengthen the attack,
even if Mr. Hopley returns to form. Mr. H. Mainprice should
stand a good chance, as he is also a beautiful field and neat bat.
Mr. W. P. Harrison should also get a careful trial. Other Seniors
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398 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
are Mr. C. Palmer, who hardly seems as sound as he should be
after so much coaching, Mr. R. E. H. Baily and Mr. C. R. W.
Magnay, both good bats. So few vacancies, however, imply that if
the Blues play well scant opportunities come to others. Of the
Freshmen I would cite three — Mr. J. J. Reunert of Harrow, who
scored 92 out of 139 in 75 minutes against Eton ; Mr. J. C. Buchanan
of Charterhouse, who made 54 and 139 v. Westminster, as well
as 70 V. Wellington, after which he took five wickets for 25 ; and
Mr. K. G. MacLeod of Fettes, who, besides being a fine field, had
an aggregate of 500 and an average of 30 — equal to 50 on English
wickets — whilst he claimed 50 wickets for 11 runs apiece. The
ground bowlers will include Cox, Bland, and Reeves. The home
matches are with Yorkshire, Northants, Surrey, Gentlemen,
Middlesex, and Gloucestershire; out-fixtures: Gentlemen at Crystal
Palace, Sussex, M.C.C. and Ground, Surrey, and Oxford, followed
by the usual visit to Liverpool.
Mr. E. L. Wright, as secretary for Oxford, fears he has very
little information to give as to promising players. Mr. W. S. Bird,
the wicket-keeper, is the new captain — thus occupying the ideal
position for the leader — and Mr. Wright himself is so fine a
hitter that with a little care he ought to make a great bat. The
other old Blues are Messrs. E. G. Martin, G. T. Branston,
N. R. Udal, and G. N. Foster ; the Hon. C. N. Bruce, whose illness
last summer deprived his University of the best public-school bat
of 1904, will probably be fit to play this year, and his form will be
watched with great interest, for Mr. Laver the Australian expressed
the opinion that he had hardly a superior in England. The
other Seniors certainly contain little of promise. Whilst Mr. E. L.
Wright has not yet heard of a slow bowler among the Freshmen,
I should prophesy that Mr. E. B. Carpenter from Winchester
will probably be the best available. In Lord Somers, Charter-
house sends a lively if uncertain hitter, somewhat of the stamp of
Lord George Scott ; and Eton provides one bat, particularly
fine on the leg-side, in Mr. J. J. Astor, who should be care-
fully coached in playing off- balls with more decision. The home
matches are with the Authentics, Gentlemen, Lancashire, M.C.C.
and Ground, Yorkshire, and Free Foresters. On tour will be
met Worcestershire, Surrey, Sussex, M.C.C. and Ground, and
Cambridge.
A learned expert has observed to me that Yorkshire will
shortly come toppling down, because all the best cricketers are
now seniors, and he further ventured on a comparison with the
fate of Notts at one period. On the other hand Mr. F. C. Toone
writes : ** Of course, with such promising players as Rothery, Grim-
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THE COMING CRICKET SEASON 399
shaw, Rudstone, Wainwright, and Wilkinson, Yorkshire is not
likely to fall off. All these are fast approaching the high standard
of county cricket. Still, there is just the want of a 5'oung fast
bowler. Our programme extends from May 3, when we meet
South Wales at Cardiff, to September i, with only three days' rest
on the date of Gentlemen v. Players at Lord's. It should be noted
that this very large programme is arranged for the benefit of county
cricket generally, for by playing some weaker counties it is felt a
great service is being rendered by Yorkshire to the game, and thus
the great strain placed upon the players is somewhat compensated
for. I have pleasure in saying that all the old players are available."
To this I would add that I have italicised all, because this implies
the official denial to the rumours of one retirement. How much the
Hon. F. S. Jackson will play it is impossible to add. Lord Hawke
has booked his return passage from Bombay for April 16. Of the
above-mentioned young players, though all are useful, only Rothery
as yet looks like taking front rank. The balance sheet shows a
profit of 3^1,117.
Mr. T. Matthews sends a flourishing account of Lancashire :
** Our heavy fixture list includes an encounter with Oxford for the
first time for many years. Tyldesley takes the Yorkshire match in
August for his benefit. Our second eleven has entered the Minor
Counties Competition. At Old Traflford, where great changes are
being made, ;^i,ooo is expended over new stands. Mr. A. C. Mac-
Laren is coming to live in the North, and will again captain our
side, but we shall be without Mr. H. G. Garnett. We have hopes
among the younger men of Harry and Rowlands, and there are
several other promising colts on the staff.'' To these observations
may be added that Cook, the new formidable fast bowler, will be
available for the early matches. Mr. W. Brearley announced his
retirement, but it is permissible to doubt whether so keen a
cricketer will thus prematurely close his career.
The only other county which has an equally extensive pro-
gramme is Surrey; but more than one uncertainty renders the
immediate outlook dubious. The splendid work done by Lord
Dalmeny, both as a captain and fine hitter, may possibly be arrested
by his new Parliamentary duties. Nor is anything officially known
about Mr. J. N. Crawford, the greatest public-school cricketer since
Mr. A. G. Steel and the Hon. F. S.Jackson. In both cases, however,
hopeful views are held by Mr. C. W. Alcock, now happily much
stronger, as his innumerable friends will be glad to learn. No new
amateurs are known to the executive, but Mr. W. W. Read has again
been offered the post of cricket coach. Lees is, of course, the Hirst
of the South, and Mr. Knox should improve on his fine work in 1905.
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400 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Bale is a capital reserve wicket-keeper; but apart from Marshall, who
qualifies in 1907, there does not appear to be a great deal of unde-
veloped talent.
Mr. Gregor MacGregor hopes to play for Middlesex in a few
matches, while Mr. B. J. T. Bosanquet, report says, " will have to
stick to work." Otherwise the county team will present a strong
phalanx in August, and rather a scratch appearance in some of
the earlier fixtures. Mr. G. W. Beldam is in much better health,
and Mr. P. F. Warner is keeping in practice at the Cape. It is
earnestly to be hoped that Trott may have the good sense to act
on the advice so freely given to him. Mignon, of course, is quite
a beginner, and it is difficult to decide whether he is useful or not.
In 1907 Mr. E. H. D. Sewell will play under the amateur status,
and Vogler will be qualified. Certainly Middlesex is the embodi-
ment of Imperial Federation in cricket. The same nine counties
are again met, with an extra match against Cambridge. Another
had been arranged with the West Indians, but this has been
dropped. Lord Brackley's team filling the gap at Lord's.
The Sussex team will be again under the leadership of Mr.
C. B. Fry, but unfortunately the two young amateurs, Messrs. H. P.
Chaplin and K. O. Goldie, have returned to military life in India.
There is every reason to believe that K. S. Ranjitsinhji — with whom
Lord Hawke has been staying — will again be in England and able
to play regularly. Two professionals become qualified by residence.
At the beginning of the season R. Relf, younger" brother of the
valued professional, will show what he is like as a batsman, and
at the end of May the Australian Dwyer should appreciably
strengthen the bowling, besides proving a determined run-getter.
The programme is smaller than in previous seasons, for the
encounters with Leicestershire and Northants have been dropped,
and, as usual, Worcestershire is not met. Two county matches will
be played at Hastings ; for the first time a county fixture will take
place at Chichester, it having been decided to play Hampshire
there, whilst Oxford University will probably be opposed at East-
bourne, Cambridge as usual being met at Brighton.
Lord Lilford is apparently effecting for Northamptonshire what
Mr. C. E. Green has so munificently done for Essex. At his ex-
pense Mead and Thompson have been engaged as coaches, the latter
being awarded forty pounds as compensation for not being allowed
to go to South Africa. An innovation is a county match at Peter-
borough, Warwickshire being the visitors, whilst an out-fixture
with Cambridge University is also new. The other counties to be
met are Surrey, Worcestershire, Derbyshire, Hants, Essex, Notts,
and Leicestershire, whilst the West Indians will be given an
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THE COMING CRICKET SEASON 401
opportunity of repeating their success of 1900, when they won
their first English victory on the county ground.
The Kent captain expects to have the support of all who
assisted last year, and as usual the executive is most energetic. The
Tonbridge ground has been purchased for 3^4,300, and by moving
the pavilion another acre will be added to the playing area, while
the size of the entrance has been doubled. Sussex and Lancashire
take part in the Canterbury Festival, Hampshire and Middlesex
in the Tonbridge Week. It may be mentioned that Huish's benefit
yielded 3^675. The Kent Nursery, which has already produced such
excellent players, appears to possess valuable batting recruits in
Hubble and Munds, and promising all-round cricketers in Hardinge,
Skinner, and Woolley.
The Warwickshire eleven will be the same as in recent summers
except that Mr. A. C. S. Glover may appear more frequently, but
Mr. F. R. Loveitt does not appear to be available. Smith is deputy
wicket-keef)er, and Weldrick, a batsman born in Yorkshire, will
probably obtain a trial. Essex and the Universities have not re-
newed their fixtures. The home match with Northampton will be
at Coventry, the rest at Birmingham.
Mr. G. L. Jessop reports succinctly re Gloucestershire : *' Our
side will be practically the same as last year. No new discoveries
have been made of any great batsmen or bowlers. The Cambridge
match is continued. Taking into account the poor report re
balance-sheet that some of the other counties have to bewail, we
have no reason to be displeased."
Mr. Murray Anderson writes: ''Somersetshire plays the usual
counties, meeting five at Taunton and four (Gloucestershire, Yorkshire,
Sussex, and Lancashire) at Bath. All our last season's amateurs
are available again, Messrs. L. C. H. Palairet and P. R. Johnson as
often as the claims of work will allow. Messrs. Phillips and Daniell
having returned from abroad, will again play regularly under
Mr. S. M. J. Woods, captain for the thirteenth year. We have a new
professional bowler, a younger brother of Cranfield, qualified, and
we hear of some young amateurs coming on. Our financial prospects
were not good last year, but we hope to put that all right this season."
Mr. Turner observes that it is too early to form any idea of what
colts would be of service to Notts, who have all their team of last
summer available, with some likely recruits on the ground-staff,
and the same list of county fixtures as in 1905.
Leicestershire has substituted engagements with Kent for those
vvith Sussex, and again enjoys the financial advantage of playing
home engagements on both Bank Holidays. Pougher will still coach.
Several young cricketers of promise are on the ground-staff, including
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402 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Hampson, a useful second-string wicket-keeper; Palmer, who is
left-handed; Curtis, Looms, and Astell. All last year's professionals
and amateurs are again available. Thanks to the share in the profits
of Test Matches amounting to £315, a balance of £ioy is shown,
thus reducing the debt due to the bank to 3^763.
Essex is troubled with lack of funds. On the question of Mead
it is obvious that until he approaches the committee the latter can
do nothing ; but as his eight wickets in first-class cricket last year
cost 25I runs, it may be that some of his old skill is lost. Mr.
Borrodaile denies that the bowling of Essex is weak, and lays all
the blame on the fielding. As usual, Mr. C. E. Green generously
defrays the expenses of Peel and Lockwood, who are to coach before
the regular season. Much is expected from Connor, a fast right-
handed bowler, said to be alert in the slips. Benham, who is coach
at Winchester, with additional opportunities should do tetter, and
J. Freeman is a reserve wicket-keeper of promise. Major Turner
and Rev. F. H. Gillingham will more frequently appear, and the rest
of the team remain undaunted by reverses in excess of victoria.
The matches with Warwickshire have been dropped, Gloucestershire
and Northants being met instead. The West Indians play their first
county match at Leyton, and the out-fixture with Kent is at Tun-
bridge Wells instead of at Canterbury.
"Derbyshire,'* Mr. Barclay Delacombe writes, "will have to
rely chiefly on the same eleven, but it is hoped Messrs. A. E. Lawton
and G. Curgenven will be able to play more regularly. Though no
colts of great promise are in view, there is every reason to expect a
marked development in Cadman, while Norton looks like making a
really first-class player. Derbyshire welcomes Yorkshire, Surrey, and
Northants at Chesterfield, Leicestershire at Glossop, and the other
counties who were encountered last summer at Derby. A greatly
increased subscription list is anticipated, which will permit more to
be done in the way of encouraging young players, of which there
are many of promise."
With the possible exception of Captain Greig and Mr. G. N.
Bignell, who will both be in India, Hampshire will have all last year's
cricketers available. Mead, a left-handed slow bowler, and Bad-
cock, who is fast right-handed, will receive trials, and are rather con-
fidently expected to strengthen the attack. The Hon. C. N. Bruce,
of Oxford University, will assist as often as he can. The Army will
be encountered at Aldershot, where Surrey will also be met ; War-
wickshire plays at Basingstoke, Kent at Bournemouth, Somerset-
shire, Sussex, and Worcestershire at Portsmouth ; Yorkshire, Derby-
shire, Northants, Leicestershire, and West Indians at Southampton.
Mr. A. M. Miller has most kindly responded to my request to
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THE COMING CRICKET SEASON 403
write upon the subject with which he is so identified, to the
following effect : —
•* The Minor Counties Association, which includes the second
elevens of Surrey and Yorkshire, and will this year, for the first
time, include that of Lancashire, is yearly attracting more attention.
It was founded in 1895, and there were then seven counties playing
in its competition ; in 1906 there will be twenty competitors, including
the three second elevens just mentioned. It is unsatisfactory in regard
to the system of arranging matches, as at present a county may pick
and choose its opponents, and by avoiding the stronger counties and
selecting the weak it can finish high up in the table of results, while
the stronger counties, by playing each other, have not scored so
many points, and are, consequently, not at the top ; this, however,
will be righted shortly, as at the last meeting it was only postponed
as all the counties had made their fixtures for 1906. There are two
schemes to select from. The one discussed at the annual meeting
divides the counties into two groups of ten each, which play each
other once during the season, with a final match between the top
counties of each group. The other advocates a system by which
the counties are divided into four groups, each county playing two
matches with each other, the top county of each group to play in a
semi-final match, and the two winners to play a final, and the winner
to be the champion county of the second division. Which of these
two schemes will be adopted it is hard to say, for both have their
respective merits, but on the whole the four-group seems to be the
easiest to work. A few of the competitors do not welcome the
second elevens of first-class counties in the competition, and think
that if they do enter they ought to have a separate supply of
cricketers and not play those who are on the borderland of the first-
class eleven. It is needless to say that the counties holding this
opinion do not play the second elevens ; but it is the wish of the
majority of the minor counties to play against the best sides they
can, and thus try to improve their standard of cricket. Although
Surrey second have been in the competition since 1899 and York-
shire second since 1901, neither have yet succeeded in being at the top
of the table of results. The wickets in minor county cricket are not
on the whole as good as the first-class counties play on, as they
have not the money to spend on the up-keep of their grounds; but
they are improving steadily, and there is little to be found fault wiih
in this respect. The umpiring, which in the old days before inde-
pendent umpires were adopted was most unsatisfactory, is now quite
the reverse.
" One frequently hears discussed the respective merits of some
minor county and those towards the bottom of the first class, and
MO. cxxix. VOL. XXII. — April 1906 H E
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404 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
the advent of Northamptonshire in the first division was watched with
the greatest interest. Considering that they finished above three
others in the list in 1905, it shows that there is not such a wide gap
between the tail of the first division and the top of the second.
Personally I think that the standard of first-class cricket should be
judged by the first dozen on the list, and not the last five. Although
it would be considered hard lines to turn down into the second divi-
sion some of the first-class counties, it must be borne in mind that
it is equally hard on any minor county that is better than some of
the existing first-class counties to keep it from promotion. There
ought to be, and no doubt will be in the future, some plan devised
by which a minor county can obtain promotion by merit."
The last suggestive paragraph is far too pregnant to be adequately
dealt with towards the close of a lengthy article hampered by severe
compression. It is, however, possible that ultimately there may be
three classes: (a) the first ten who may compete for the county
championship ; (6) the second eight composed of the last six of the
present first-class counties and the two highest of the present minor
counties, who would compete for the second-rank championship, both
these classes .to be included in first-class averages; (c) the remainder
of those engaged in the Minor Counties Competition. If the bottom
county of one class played a match with the top county of the class
below for their respective qualification in the ensuing year, a great
stimulus might be given to the whole tournament of English county
cricket, whilst the strain of too many matches would be perceptibly
relieved, as no shire would have more than eighteen championship
fixtures.
Finally must be dealt with the prospects of the forthcoming
West Indian tour. It is open to doubt if the committee of the
M.C.C. will decide that any of their fixtures shall count in first-class
averages, but considerable interest will, in any case, be excited by
their visit. On the last tour, in 1900, five victories could be set
against eight defeats, but Lord Brackley's Team in the West Indies
in the spring of 1905 had to put up with three disasters against
eleven successes. On the present occasion, Mr. F. E. Lacey has
arranged a capital programme, commencing at the Crystal Palace,
against London County, on June 11, and concluding on August 18
at Northampton. An England Eleven is met at Blackpool, Lord
Brackley's Team and M.C.C. and Ground at Lord's, and the following
first-class counties have home engagements with them : — Essex,
Surrey, Hampshire, Kent, Derbyshire, Yorkshire, Leicestershire,
Northamptonshire, and Notts. The other games are with a Minor
Counties Combined Eleven at Ealing, Wiltshire, Northumberland
and Durham, Norfolk, South Wales, and Scotland.
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THE COMING CRICKET SEASON 405
The Sports Sub-Committee of the West India Club, acting in
co-operation with the West Indies and with Mr. F. E. Lacey, have
obtained some guarantees as well as generous assistance from the
counties. Moreover, it should be borne in mind that the gentlemen
playing for the Islands are in the truest sense bond-fide amateurs, who
will only receive their bare expenses while on the tour. Though not
yet appointed, it is probable that Mr. A. E. Harrigan, the captain of
Trinidad, will officiate in that capacity for the team. He is a big
hitter, who never considers he has done himself justice until he has
hit a six. Burton, the black bowler from Demerara, who was the
best on the last tour, is coming again, this time with Cumberbatch,
another bowler of colour, right-handed medium-paced, considered
the pick of Trinidad. These two will bear the brunt of the attack,
Avith Mr. S. Smith (a slow left-handed bowler who took six wickets
for 17 runs v. Barbadoes) and Mr. R. Ollivierre as chief changes.
The latter, a brother of the amateur now playing for Derbyshire,
and in style modelled on him, much impressed Lord Brackley's
Team when he scored 99 and took seven for 38 and four for 19.
The last tour suffered from the absence of Mr. H. B. G. Austin,
ivho was serving in South Africa. We shall now see the most grace-
ful bat in Trinidad, who scored 83 for the Combined Islands against
Lord Brackley's Team. Mr. Constantine will be remembered for
the brilliant way in which he punished the bowling of Dr. W. G.
Grace and Mr. A. E. Stoddart at Lord's. Mr. Learmond, a steady
but vigorous bat, is reported to have much improved since his former
visit. Mr. P. Goodman, who made 104 v. Derbyshire in igoo,
obtained the only century, as well as another 75, against the last
English touring side. Mr. Challenor is also reported to be a stylish
run-getter. The wicket-keeper is Mr. C. K. Bancroft, of Barbados,
and, presumably, Mr. J. E. Parker is selected as reserve stumper.
JLayne is a bowler said to come with his arm, and Mr.C. S. Morrison
is chosen to afford occasional assistance in that department. What-
ever proportion of victories they obtain, the West Indians are sure
to enjoy a very instructive and enjoyable tour.
The foregoing must abundantly prove that there is reason to
anticipate a busy and important cricket season.
E E 2
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MALE AND PBMALB PBTER S GAZBLLB
BIG-GAME SHOOTING AT LAKE BARINGO
BY C. V. A. PEEL, F.Z.S., F.R.G.S.
After a five days* hard march over very rough country, I pitched
camp on the edge of a huge open plain a few miles north-east of
Lake Baringo. The heat here in the middle of the day was very
great, and I think I must have had a touch of the sun, for the first
two days I felt very ill, and was unable to go out hunting. The
first morning I got on to the open plain I saw a great deal of
game and caught sight of the first wild giraffe I had ever set eyes
upon. He looked positively gigantic as he slowly walked up wind.
Numbers of Peter's gazelle and Thomson's gazelle were about, also
a single ostrich, but all very wild.
Keeping close under cover of some thick thorn bushes I next
came upon a large herd of oryx antelope feeding on the open plain.
It was impossible to get near them, so I tried a prodigiously long
shot, which for a wonder came off, and a fine bull oryx lay kicking
in the sand. After we had got the skin off I turned to go home, as
I was still feeling very weak and ill ; and while walking along, a
small herd of zebras was seen to be approaching us. As they ap-
peared to be about to offer a grand chance for a photograph at vety
close quarters, I laid down my rifle, and taking cover in the thick
bushes, began to get my camera ready. The zebras stopped ; I "w^
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BIG-GAME SHOOTING AT LAKE BARINGO 407
obliged to make towards them, and was stalking along very, very
quietly with my eyes intent upon them, when I all but walked on to
the top of a huge rhinoceros which lay in a deep depression in the
ground before me. With a loud snort the beast jumped up and,
wheeling round, stood sniffing the air. Armed only with a camera
I thought the best thing to do was to squat slowly down behind a
bush and await events, expecting every moment he would charge up
wind right at me. I felt so excited that I forgot all about the camera
I was holding, for I might easily have taken a grand snapshot of
him as he stood only a few yards away, looking particularly formid-
able. After waiting for what seemed an age to me, he turned
CAMP SCBNB
slightly sideways and moved past me at a tremendous pace, snorting
and blowing and crashing through the tiny bushes like a runaway
steam-roller.
I was very thankful when the boys came up with my rifle. We
searched the dense bush for some time, but saw no more of the
rhino.
Next morning from my tent door I could see such a sight of
game that it was difficult to credit it in these days of game laws and
restrictions. Almost at my feet in this bush country I made out
with my naked eye several herds of Peter's gazelle and two herds
of impala, including three fine bucks. The impala in the Baringo
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4o8 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
country carry the finest heads of any I have ever seen, the horns
rarely measuring less than 30 in. round the curve.
Farther on I could detect innumerable herds of Peter's gazelle.
Still beyond us out on the open plain my glass showed me a never-
ending procession of zebra and oryx, with a single rhino and its calf.
In the far distance I discerned the same tall figure of my friend the
big giraffe standing like a leaning tower of Pisa right out in the
open. This panorama, backed by giant mountains and a rising sun,
was the sight of a lifetime. Turning my back on the plains and
facing hills, I made out a single cow koodoo ; but although I searched
all the rocky slopes within sight, I failed to make any more out.
About eight o'clock I saw what I took to be a small herd of
MY PORTBRS
eland mixed up with some zebras, and began the stalk at once. It
proved the most arduous of any I had so far undertaken, owing to
the amount of game between them and me. I had left my gun-
bearers behind as usual, as they had proved themselves a positive
nuisance when a scientific stalk was in progress, for they never
seemed to take in the situation in the least degree. As the time
passed, all the while I was worming myself on my belly I was in
constant dread lest my gun-bearers should get impatient after so long
a wait and show themselves, but luckily they knew by experience
what would happen should they dare to do so.
I now saw a fine bull eland make as though to join the main
body, but unluckily he turned away and went and stood under some
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BlG-GAME SHOOTING AT LAKE BARINGO 409
thick bushes out of my sight. After using my glass for some
minutes I became aware that a very large herd of eland were before
me. Behind every tree and bush were gathered together three or
four of these gigantic antelopes. I made frantic struggles through
the grass to get nearer, and at length spotted a second bull, at which
I fired, hearing the bullet tell. There was a wild rush of animals
for the open, and I counted as many as fifty cows and four huge
bulls. I sat down and made some shocking shooting at the last of
these latter, which I took to be my wounded one, as he moved so
slowly and badly. The whole herd were soon out of range, when
one of my men
ran up saying he
had seen the bull
I had wounded,
so I walked up to
the place and
found a lot of
blood. We fol-
lowed the spoor
amongst rocky
hills for some
half-mile, when
my gun - bearer
pointed out what
he said was the
eland. Person-
ally I thought it
was an ant-hill,
for I could see no
head. However,
I sat down, and
at eighty yards
made one of the giant ant-hill
-worst shots in my
life ! But somehow I thought I was firing at nothing, and that
may partially account for the miss. To add to my conjecture the
thing I aimed at never moved, and I was fumbling in my pocket for
another cartridge when an enormous bull eland ran from behind the
bush and away ! He stopped again after going a hundred yards,
and I distinctly heard the bullet tell on him ; however, he moved
slowly out of sight. I raced after him till I could go no further,
and sank exhausted amongst the stones. We followed the track
for miles, but lost it eventually in stony ground.
Next morning I felt so sick at the thought of losing so fine a
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410 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
trophy, that I once more set out to try to find his tracks. By seven
o'clock we had taken up the blood spoor, but it was terribly slow
work owing to the rocky nature of the ground. Whilst we were
going along we heard a terrible commotion in the bushes to our left,
and I expected to see the inevitable rhino (which swarmed in this
part of the country) come blundering into us ; however, it turned out
to be a herd of six giraffe, and a very interesting sight it was. Their
walk is majestic in the extreme, but when it comes to running these
great camel-like animals cut rather ridiculous figures.
But to proceed with our tracking. We had been going about
four hours, and I could see my boys were beginning to get tired of
it, when, as we were descending into a rocky gorge, I suddenly saw
the eland far below me running slowly down hill. At length he
reached the bottom, went out into an open space, and stood under a
solitary tree. Now was the time for a stalk ! Feeling the wind
carefully by throwing grass into the air, I crawled and crawled to-
wards him until I was a hundred yards off. No further could I get
owing to want of cover. I flattered myself my stalking was gene-
rally good, but my shooting — oh, I knew how bad it could be! I
took plenty of time and careful aim before I fired, but the eland
never moved. Had I hit him or missed him ? Yesterday's pro-
ceedings were to be reproduced again, I feared. I crawled nearer (I
was horribly excited, I own) and fired again. The eland did not
move. I got up and ran towards him. He still stood with his head
in the shade of that solitary tree. All at once he seemed to realise
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BIG-GAME SHOOTING AT LAKE BARINGO 411
that he must be off. He put up his head, saw me, and started to
run. Was I going to lose him after all? I ran as I never ran
before, found 1 gained on him, and got up to within twenty yards
of him ; then as he turned his great broadside to me I put a bullet
through his heart, bringing him down in a kneeling position. After
photographing him I tried to get at his throat with my knife, but he
was game to the last, and with a low bellow he flourished his horns
about me in threatening fashion, so that I was obliged to end his
troubles with another ball. He was a superb bull eland, measuring
from tip of nose
to end of tail lift.
I in. His girth
was exactly 7 ft.
and his height at
the shoulders 5 ft.
10 in. His horns
measured 14 in.
in length.
Next day I was
wandering about
the bush on the
edge of the open
plain, when all at
once I saw ap-
proaching me in
the distance a
huge bull giraffe.
With head and
neck bent low,
with stooping
shoulders and
slow wandering
gait he was mak-
ing straight for
me. Getting my gun-bbarbr and oryx antelope
gun-bearers safe-
ly hidden from view — a matter of no little difficulty, as they
insisted on walking upright instead of crawling — I lay amongst
some aloes to await events. There were a number of Peter's
gazelle about ; some of them had seen us and were running
or walking about suspiciously. They turned the giraffe, so that I
judged he would walk past me at about three hundred yards.
This would never do, I thought, so I prepared to stalk him, and
if possible cut him off. Every now and then he would stop
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412 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
and watch the gazelle and then proceed in his accustomed leisurely
fashion. I left my patch of aloes and began to crawl on all fours.
I soon found out I had plenty to think about. In the first place,
after crawling but a few yards, I perceived a huge rhinoceros
walking slowly away from me about one hundred yards in front,
then I had the gazelle to keep out of the way on my right, and
my quarry the giraffe was coming on at a goodly pace, albeit it
looked so slow.
The bushes here were pretty high, so I ventured to stand up
and show myself, first to the gazelle to get them if possible quietly
out of the way. It was a risky proceeding, but it had the desired
effect, for the gazelle slowly walked across me. I was now left with
the rhino to deal with. He insisted on stopping every minute or so
to feed, so that I could not get on. I feared he would either stam-
pede the giraffe or the giraffe would stampede him, in which latter
case I might probably have to run for it !
I tried all the time to keep calm, but I was getting so close
(barely thirty yards) to the rhino that I was beginning to wish
for a gun-bearer with a second gun, as I held only a single-barrelled
•450 cordite rifle. However, the wind held right, the rhino moved
quietly, the giraffe approached rapidly, and I reached a small bush
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BIG-GAME SHOOTING AT LAKE BARINGO 413
in safety. Here I sat down, cocked my rifle, and waited for the
gigantic tower to appear — waited for what seemed an age. In
reality it was barely a minute. At length the creature strode in
sight, and I never beheld such a wonderful picture as he presented as
he stalked out from behind some small thorn trees and stood broad-
side on watching me from the open. He was quite two hundred
yards away, but realising I should never have a better chance I
took aim and pulled the trigger. With a crash that could be plainly
heard even at that great distance, the huge beast fell heavily to the
ground.
MASAI WOMEN
His total height was about 16 ft. 2 in., his height at the
shoulders 8 ft. 10 in., and his girth exactly 8 ft. 4 in. He was a
specimen of the southern or two-horned variety, with light fawn-
coloured markings on a white ground.
One day, being short of meat for the porters, I determined to
shoot a couple of Peter's gazelle, which simply swarmed in the
thick bush about here. We soon found a herd, which I stalked.
The biggest animal had its head hidden in a bush, but it offered a
good chance, so I fired. It galloped for fifty yards full tilt and
then fell over dead. It turned out to have a very good head, and I
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414 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
had just got my camera out to photograph it when for the second
time a rhinoceros appeared on the scene. He walked slowly past,
so we sat stock still till he vanished into the bushes, and luckily
MASAI CATTLB
neither saw nor winded us. I swopped my Mannlicher for my '450
cordite, and following up the huge imprints in the sand we came
up with him in a very short time. In a crouching position I
advanced behind his tail until at length he turned to feed in a thorn
bush ; I then, losing no time, fired into his left shoulder at once. He
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BIG-GAME SHOOTING AT LAKE BARINGO 415
dropped on to his knees, and cramming in another cartridge I fired
again, knocking him right off his fore legs. He banged the ground
about with his head for a minute, and then all movement ceased.
His front horn measured 23 in., but I have often seen larger rhinos.
After having great sport with gazelle, impala, oryx, Jackson's harte-
beest, and waterbuck, I went down to the shores of the lake. Here I
got a hippo from a dug-out native canoe, and saw the old tracks of
buffalo and elephant. But the heat down by the lake was terrific,
SUK WOMEN
and so were the mosquitos, which forced me to beat a hasty retreat
out of what must be a magnificent game country. We marched
through thick thorn bush the first day, and the porters got charged
by a rhino. The number of tracks of these animals is incredible in
this part of the country, and the wonder to me was that we did
not see more of the animals themselves.
On the way back we tried for elephant at Lake Hannington,
but the tracks were all old.
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4i6 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
CAMP SCBNB
WATERBUCK
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BIG-GAME SHOOTING AT LAKE BARINGO 417
I shot near the lake an enormous python which lay in my path
one early morning. I all but trod on it, taking it to be the stump
of a tree ! The reptile was so heavy I could not lift it. It
measured exactly 15 ft., and its greatest girth was 16^ in.
The natives about these parts consisted of Kamazia and Suk,
and were friendly. The Suk, I think, are the most extraordinary-
SUK, SHOWING THE EXTRAORDINARY MATTED HAIR
looking people I ever beheld. The men mat their long hair into a
huge pouch or bag, in which they keep various articles, such as
beads, tobacco, snuff, etc. From this pouch proceeds a long curved
bristle ending in a small ball of fluff, reminding one exactly of the
head-dress of a pantaloon in a Christmas pantomime.
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THE RACING SEASON
BY THE EDITOR
Whether a racing season will prove exciting, merely ordinary, or
exceptionally dull, must always be a matter of the purest speculation
before it begins. There may be a phenomenal lot of two-year-olds
to rival the wonderful year 1885, when Ormonde, Minting, The Bard,
Saraband, and others started their careers; and then of course some
animals we have already seen may make extraordinary improvement;
whilst in addition there are always a few dark three-year-olds that
for some reason or other have missed their two-year-old engagements,
the most notable of these at the present time being His Majesty's
Nulli Secundus. When I wrote an article similar to this twelve
months ago I quoted Richard Marsh, who had been kind enough to
write to me saying that he much preferred Mor^s to Nulli Secundus
— the latter, he observed, " looks like making a very big horse, coming
late, and is rather on the coarse side. He has not nearly such good
action as Mor^s, whose action is almost perfect." I had seen both
colts as yearlings at Sandringham and had been greatly struck by
them. At present, for some unknown reason, unfounded opinions
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THE RACING SEASON 419
have been formed about the two, the son of St. Simon and Nunsuch
being preferred to the half-brother to Zinfandel, and from the fact
of Nulli Secundus having been nibbled at for the Derby it is
evidently supposed that there are great possibilities about him.
How the idea obtained currency it would be interesting to know,
for the trainer himself is quite in the dark.
For some years past the three-year-old colts have rarely risen
beyond the ** moderate" standard, though it need hardly be said
that Pretty Polly is famous among fillies as one who will always live
in Turf history, and happily she is starting her preparations for the
season's ^rork in perfect fettle. She of course stands out by herself,
and it is only to be hoped that Presto II., the only animal that has
ever finished in front of her on a racecourse, will come to Ascot in
June to let us see how right or wrong that result may have been.
Shrewd and practical racegoers dislike excuses and always look on
them with suspicion, but a journey across the Channel may upset
a mare — or a horse either for the matter of that. It is unquestion-
ably a handicap. Presto ran creditably last season, winning nine
races out of thirteen ; Pretty Polly was absolutely invincible, and
until Presto beats her again there will be a strong consensus of
opinion in England that for once, in the Prix du Conseil Municipal
at Longchamps, she did not give her running.
What one usually looks at first in a consideration of the season
is the Derby, and there are materials, so far as can be judged at
present, for a sufficiently interesting race. In such little betting as
has taken place, Lally has naturally been made favourite. His
performances last season merit the position. After his first essay,
when he finished third to undistinguished animals — but frequently
** first time out " counts for nothing — he failed only twice in nine
races. At Ascot he was called upon to do duty two days running,
and probably on the second occasion felt the effects of his first race.
His other defeat was perhaps his most creditable performance, for it
took place in Ireland, he had the long journey "in him,** and this,
in the opinion of experienced men, as a general rule reduces a horse
greatly below his form ; but yet he only failed by a short head to
give no less a weight than 20 lb. to a more than useful colt in
Athleague. That Lally was the best two-year-old of the season is
accepted ; but there is always one great question about a three-year-
old, and that is whether he stays. Amphion, his sire, cannot be
rated as a stayer, and none of his sons or daughters has been
successful over a distance of ground. It remains to be proved
whether Lally can stay. He has not quite held his position in the
market. A rumour on the subject of his wind got abroad, but this
may mean nothing : such stories are often current without reason.
NO. cxxix. VOL. xxu.^April 1906 F F
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420 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Lally is doing good work, but it will be some weeks yet before he
is fit enough to be tried, and until it has been ascertained that he
can last at top speed for a mile and a half, 7 to 2 is an absurd price
to take about him for the Derby. He is not in the Two Thousand
Guineas, but has been entered for the Newmarket Stakes, run a
fortnight later, on May 20, that being his first engagement of
the season.
What is there to beat him ? Returning to my article of a year
ago I find that Colonel W. Hall Walker, in a long letter he was good
enough to write to me, included a eulogy of Black Arrow. The
colt, he said, would probably rank in the first class, and if he did not
prove as good as Bendigo, his owner declared that be would be
greatly disappointed, for Black Arrow looked and moved in a manner
which suggested his superiority to either of his half-sisters, Jean's
Folly or Cherry Lass. He won his first two races in the manner
which was expected of him, so that after Ascot his price for the
Derby was inquired about, and it is said that in the anticipation of
his proving a wonder no more than 5 to 2 was offered. His per-
formance at Goodwood, however, was nothing short of a tragedy.
With odds of 20 to i on him he went to the post, but compK)rted
himself there in such mad fashion that the price gradually diminished
to 100 to 7 on him. He resolutely declined to start, and took no
part in the race, to the consternation of all connected with him.
Next time out he retrieved his character by winning the Champion
Breeders' Biennial Foal Stakes at Derby, and so was esteemed a
certainty for a similar event at Kempton, in which he met Lally, set
to give him 4 lb. The betting here was 5 to 2 on Black Arrow, 3 to i
Lally, 100 to 6 others; but Lally had things his own way, as Black
Arrow refused to gallop. On the following Tuesday he would do
nothing in the Champagne Stakes at Doncaster; and at Newmarket,
in the Clearwell, if possible he did less. What may happen in the
case of the black son of Count Schomberg and Black Cherry this
year, who can say ? The colt, by the way, is described as a brown,
but in truth he is black, and against horses of this colour a strong
prejudice exists in many quarters. He has two dozen or more
engagements, starting as early as April 5, and some people seem
to have a strong idea that he will fulfil his early promise. I can only
repeat, who can say ?
Another horse backed for the Derby is Pretty Polly's half-
brother Admirable Crichton, who, as Mr. Peter Purcell Gilpin wrote
to me before the colt had ever run, " for make and shape, temper,
constitution and action, is likely to shine as a racehorse.*' He did
not come out till the Second Newmarket July Meeting, and was then
understood to be so backward that in a moderate field of five for the
i
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THE RACING SEASON 421
Chesterfield Stakes 3 to i was oflfered against him, the favourite at
II to 8 being a bad filly called Rayon, a daughter of Diamond
Jubilee and Asteria, who has yet to win a race. He got badly away,
but came through his field and won comfortably. Admirable
Crichton reappeared at Goodwood in the Rous Memorial, in which
he was only opposed by Sweet Mary, in receipt of 5 lb. more
than sex allowance, and odds of 11 to 4 were freely laid on her; but
after a great race, for which Maher who rode her was praised in
some q^uarters and blamed in others, the colt won a short head*
After Goodwood he suffered from the illness which so frequently
attacks racehorses, but it was thought that he had recovered when the
Middle Park Plate was run for, and he was generally preferred to his
LALLY
{Photograph by Clarenc* Hail$y, Newmarket)
Stable companion Flair, who, however, beat him rather easily. With i
odds of 6 to 4 on him he then went to the post for the Dewhurst *
Plate, in which he ran badly behind Picton, Malua, and Gingal ; so that
in his case there are doubts as to whether his illness has not left a 1
permanent mark. He is going on well at present, but this means ,
little ; horses often move attractively in their work and seem to be
at their best until a question is seriously asked them. When he is j
to run is probably not at present decided. He is in at Liverpool the ]
first week of the season, within a few days of the date when this (
number will be issued, but it seems likely that he will not carry silk ]
until the Two Thousand, run on May 2, in which he might meet I
Black Arrow, NuUi Secundus, and others of less note. i
FF 2 :
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422 THE BADMINTON MAGAZINE
Another that has been modestly backed for the Derby is
Sarcelle, who won three races last year, and was thrice second. He
is a son of Gallinule and Croceum, and may of course have made
phenomenal improvement ; unless he has done so it seems improb-
able that he will be found good enough, though on his last outing,
when beaten by Flair at Kempton Park, he was giving her lolb.
over weight for age. She, however, won as she liked. Flair is
of course a mare who must be taken into consideration if— but
this " if " is all-important — she retains her form ; as to which
it cannot be too often repeated that a good two-year-old filly is
almost as likely as not to be comparatively worthless the follow-
ing season. She may have improved as Memoir did ; she may, on
the other hand, have gone to pieces. A couple of years since
another daughter of St. Frusquin, Fiancee, was supposed to have
a great career before her. She had won all her races as a two-
year-old, and her friends were convinced that she was just the sort
of mare to train on into something notable ; as a three-year-old she
was worthless for racing purposes and was turned out of training.
Game Chick is another recent case in point, and indeed innumerable
instances of the same thing might be quoted. Flair was among the
best of a nice lot of three-year-old fillies last year, which included
Sweet Mary, Ulalume, Water Flower, and Colonia, of whom, how-
ever, Colonia was a stone behind Black Arrow. Doubts as to
whether Sweet Mary would stay have always been current; and
Water Flower, after winning five consecutive races, retired in July,
which she would scarcely have done had all been well with her.
" Makes a noise," is the whisper with regard to the daughter of
Watercress and Pansy. Between her and Ulalume there was in any
case little to choose, and the latter (Gallinule — ^The Message) seemed,
so far as one could guess, more likely to train on. But this
admittedly is pure speculation.
Other " possibles " in the Derby are Gorgos, Malua, Picton,
and, some people imagine, the White Knight, a son of Desmond and
Pella, who gained a little reputation which may or may not turn
out to be justified. It is not his public performance on which it is
based. Malua was talked about as a stone in front of Achilles, and
when he came out for the Fulbourne Stakes at Newmarket in July
he shared favouritism with Water Flower. After behaving badly at
the post he was left some lengths, and finished third, the race being
held to prove nothing. With 8 st. i lb. on his back he was made
favourite for the Prince of Wales's Nursery at Doncaster, in which
he could get no nearer than seventh. On the second of October,
he won for the first time, though this did not amount to much, and
Picton beat him by two lengths in the Dewhurst.
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THE RACING SEASON 423
Doubts, it will be perceived, exist with regard to the three with
the best credentials. Lally may not stay; Admirable Crichton may
not have recovered from his illness ; Black Arrow may decline to
start, or to race if he does start ; and anyone who wants to bet is
therefore taking serious risks. Not improbably the best of last
season's two-year-olds remains unmentioned. This is Vain Glory, a
daughter of Wildfowler — Fraulein. She has only run in Ireland,
where she has been consistently successful. Her form, judged
BLACK ARROW
{Photograph by W. A. Rouch)
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